The word of the day for December 6, 2012: ROOF
When I was maybe nine or ten, I thought it’d be fun to jump off the roof with an umbrella. And it was. Lucky for me and oneword.com I grew up in a scalene triangle-shaped house and decided to do a test run off its lowest point, around two and a half meters. Even though my entire body weighed the equivalent of my present-day big toe, the stretchers flew straight up halfway down and I tumbled into the grass. I stood up, unscathed other than a grass stain or two, mashed the umbrella shut, then whistled an innocent tune as I quietly replaced it in the entryway closet.
While I was busy looking down from the roof, others looked up.
on the roof there are the stars.
they must be there.
the roof is the edge of our universe.
the boundary of our hearth.
stars are painted there,
to shine upon us as we sleep.
on the roof there are the stars.
and they keep us company.
I lay on the roof, body shivering in the cold.
“I’m alone,” I sighed, and the stars began to scold.
“Are we not enough? Do we mean nothing at all?
We listen every night, every time that you call.”
So I poured out my heart, every thought, every confession
To my patient audience, the night at my discretion.
The sun came up, and the stars bid me goodbye.
“Don’t ever feel alone,” they said. “You have family in the sky.”
I lay on the roof, looking up at the sky, millions of stars skattered around like glitter. I sighed. The universe was so complex and mindblowing, yet beautiful in its unknown wonder.
all I see are stars
stars in galaxies far above me
and i feel small
smaller than the tiniest grain of sand on a beach
a white beach where the waves roll and sway
and never crash
but all i see are stars
and i am so small.
I was laying on the roof, watching the stars. My hands behind my head. My ankles crossed. The air was calm, but every now and then a nice soft breeze would come by and say hello. It was at this time that I realized I’ve never been more at ease.
On the rooftop we’re that much closer to the stars, and each other.
We climbed to the roof to watch the stars. There was your favorite place. I made my wish you made yours. We closed our eyes and sealed our promises with a tender kiss.
We sat on top of the roof in the rain. I could see her mascara dripping from the rims of her eyes. I never understood why she had to wear makeup and mess with something that is already perfect. I constantly thought of how the world moved so quickly and how I couldn’t wait until I met the person who makes time stand still. And then I met her.
[Lil’ Miss 24601]
I looked down from the top of the roof. It sure was a long way down.
“Don’t worry,” you said, wrapping your arms protectively around me. “I wont let you fall.”
I looked over and smiled at you.
They give us a feeling of protection.
The very thing that protects the ones we love and care about from storms and horrible weather. Something that reminds us we are all together and safe.
Or being trapped.
The girl placed the wood above her head. It was to keep her sheltered, to save her from the rain and sleet from outside. She felt safer with this roof on her head but she also more trapped than before. Because of this protection, the girl was unable to experience the good things from above, the sun and wind and sky. The girl stayed trapped under the safety of the roof, until she had the courage to feel both the good and bad again.
Sometimes he felt as if the world had an unending desire to prevent his success. To capture him, to cage him, to keep him from all his greatest wants. But such a roof could not hold his spirit.
They keep the elements out.
It is what protects us from the rain and the snow and the wind and the sun…
The roof leaked. I can’t remember a time it didn’t. We’d place saucepans, jugs and watering cans strategically to catch the water during storms. I’d sink into my red, threadbare armchair by the stone fireplace and close my eyes, listening as the drip-drop-symphony played…
I live in a small town where it rains a lot. and i mean all the time, which is fine because i love the rain, but my roof doesn’t. i live in an old house which means my roof is old which is what makes it leak all the time. but everytime it leaks, will is always there to fix it too, everytime.
A place to dream.
We used to go up on the roof
when it was hot in the city and
we’d talk and talk about how
one day our life would take us
far away from this roof and all
the other rooftops growing up
in the Queens air.
We sat on the roof pondering the new beginnings of our lives as we were on the top of the world. We gazed into the horizon and watched the sun light bounce off everything in our sights as it slowly disappeared into the earths caress. We sat, we spoke, we loved and soaked in the warmth of the sun and each other.
The roof was dry, but I still slipped on the tiles. His hand reached out to grab me, but he was just a few inches too short. I kept sliding, my hands grasping for anything to hold on. The edge was approaching quickly and I couldn’t stop.
I sat on the roof, chin tucked into my knees. You laid a hand on my back, and pointed to the stars, then you smiled that warm grin. As I looked harder at you, you went up into the clouds, into the night. Dissipated. You used to say “When you pass, you lead the way for who you left behind.” and I raised my head to the sky, staring at you, or the being of you as that star. Then I smiled for the first time in a long time.
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