avenue - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The blacktop was centre stage, the river of the wide avenue, ever with the trees in noble salute.
The avenue greens and greys cradled my daydreams at first light.
The avenue breathes through the trees and the people, as if they are in a strange conversation of sorts, one of the emotions. It is the colours and the sounds, the bustle and the quiet space, a million weaved moments so transient and real.
The avenue here is wide with gold tinged trees but the sidewalk is almost free of leaves. They are yet to tumble en-masse. The homes are like they ever were, old and wooden. “Heritage,” I think we used to say. His house stands on a corner, red painted cedar siding and a shingle roof he’s gonna wish he replaced before the world changed. There is no door at ground level but the wooden steps lead up to a balcony. I know better than to enter the front yard, no-one lives here without some kind of security.
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by .
This avenue has a wideness that I love. It's open and reminds me of our walks in the park in the days when we were barely older than teens. I love the cracked sidewalk and the way the cats stalk about, the owners of all they survey. I don't care what the weather is, I carry an umbrella and my sweater is warm. My eyes eat up the green leaves above and the air is like a soft kiss from the earth. Houses line the street, each one a sleepy kingdom, each one somebody's sanctuary. No matter the state of the paintwork or the pride taken in the front yard, they are perfect to me. This is what suburbia looks like and there is beauty in imperfection. It puts me at ease, lets my soul rest a little easier, because I'm not perfect either – and I don't have to be.
Carl smiled softly. Though the newspapers blew about the street he paid them no mind, they were no more bother than fall leaves, just ugly. He passed the graffiti and the scarred lampposts, barely noticing the beat up old cars. This avenue might be falling apart just as much as it ever was, but he'd found his love and not a thing or a person could ever take that away. The people that passed him didn't irritate him any longer, perhaps one day they would see the world though love's eyes like he did, he hoped so. Ahead was the intersection and his bus stop, he was early. There would be time enough to enjoy the early summer warmth before boarding. The air was sweet and there was no hurry, his world had been cast anew and he was savouring every moment.
Under the moonlight the avenue lay still. The heat of the day had been replaced by a cool breeze and Tom sauntered under the trees with a sweater dangling from his arm. He moved between the pools of streetlight, feet almost silent of the sidewalk still wet from the spring rain. A pair of headlights came bouncing over the hill, blinding him temporarily before passing and disappearing. The pub would already be packed with his friends and he was eager to get there. A live band, soft lighting and jokes so stupid they were brilliant.
It was summer in the city. The avenue was lined with the deep green foliage that stood still in the August heat wave. Lisa dawdled in their shadows before letting the sunrays heat her unguarded shoulders. She loved the heat but the shade in-between gave her the rest-bite she needed. As she descended the gentle slope she wanted to skip like she did as a girl, but instead she walked. Twenty somethings just don't skip – right? On every doorstep was a free paper, lying still, in no danger of being blown away. Then from around the corner came the familiar sight of Jack, his head bobbing along, buds popped into his ears. A slow grin spread over her face, a chance to have a little fun. In the otherwise empty street she crossed to the centre line, walking a wide arc until she was behind him. Little by little she snuck closer until she could shout “Boo!” He turned with a face that was just priceless before laughing in the way only he could.
The avenue was gilded with gold yet the leaves hadn't yet started to fall. Jenny raised her eyes to the garland above that was so stark against the cloudless sky. It was picture book perfect. Perhaps tomorrow there would be some scattered over the sidewalk, hiding some of the grey. That was truly her favourite time, she walked over them like a celebrity to her own movie premier, her held high and her eyes higher. She sucked in the air, how she'd missed the moistness after the dry August heat. She could wear her woollen coats and boots right to her knees. She was the queen of her own life and the trees stood as if dressed for her coronation. The street lamps sent down a soft glow and the hum of the city around her was better than an orchestra. This was the start of the rest of her life, she could feel it.
As the seasons came and went the avenue changed it's colour palate. In the fall it was all about red, the winter brought brown and white, while the warmer months were simply green with splashes of summer blooms. The trees were lined up like an advance guard, Jenny liked that. She imagined they were soldiers frozen in time, their boughs at the ready, but then she loved Tolkien more than most. Rain or shine she let her fingers brush agains their gnarled trunks on the way to her morning bus, there was something about the feel, something of the earth. But no matter the time of year the traffic stayed the same, a procession of cars with drivers focusing only on their destination rather than the journey. Jenny wondered if they even noticed the leafy guardians about them, ever raised their eyes from the weary tarmac.