I couldn't title this

Looming in the distance, I can see it growing in size as I approach. It borders a greenish yellow field that I have found myself in this pleasant morning. It rained overnight so the grasses are wet and the cool air is fragrant, rather perfumed with that earthy scent of the wild grasses and soil. I continue my slow pace, my shoes and the legs of my trousers are becoming more and more damp as the grasses brush past them. running my hands over their tops finds me with that sweet rain that fell the previous evening dressing my hands with a transparent glove of rain water. The smell is sweet and the taste is something only so pure that it had to have fallen from the heavens and no place other. It is no wonder that the grasses should bloom so wildly and quickly this time of year. The reason for my casual gait is to approach the simple stone wall that surrounds a family plot at fields edge. Odd how the rains that cause earth to thrive so should weather the walls and tomb stones so. Odd. I trudge on. The wall melts and sinks into the ground while the stones sink, lean, fade, and even crack under heavens duress. I guess they are no longer needed in these modern times oddly enough. Though decay often leads to life in this world and what once thrived will one day decay. Leaning my hands on the wall to gaze at the stones, further wiping traces of it's existence off onto my hands, I read the markers on the stones. The family plot is non descript and the people within it long dead. But it saddens me to note that they once thrived in this beautiful place and now lie in decay beneath it. The plot is beautiful in it's own right but the sadness of the whole thing just causes my mind to wander about the beauty and strength of the individuals fading over time for what ever reason and this place, as beautiful as it is, should be where they lay until time wipes all traces of their memory away. The stones will crumble, the grass and earth will overwhelm and all that will remain is that grass and perhaps even the wall will sink deeper and deeper into the earth. Content with my visit, for the people who would have known the interred in life were long dead themselves, buried god knows where, a face the beauty of green that has started to sway in a warm breeze as the sun rises further into the sky and with it it's heat that is slowly drying the rain that had fallen. All I can think as I look is that summer will wane and winter will approach. Summer will wane and winter will approach. I begin my walk home.

Written by a nerd this day. Please let us mourn a cartomizer that I burned out during my fabrication of this short story.