The red earth crumbled beneath her bare feet still soaked in the blood of her people. Their song silence, but the reminisce of their exsistance still clinging onto the land they had tolled and reaped for the other half of her lineage.
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Returning to the land of her birth had never been a thought. Unconciusly she had retained the sentiments of her days upon this land and held them dear.
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Standing in the decrepit grounds of The Royal Oak her caramel skin tinting under the bright sun, she wondered how her grandfather would feel to know she had acquired the last of his wealth.
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The last of his royal bloodline.
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Times had changed, the world had moved on, but the Royal Oak had been rooted in her core.
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Even in it’s bloodly history and neglected state she knew its true beauty.
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Walking through the hidden path behind the big house she stepped into another world.
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A world beyond the beautiful house, grand columns and wild hibiscus. One that was once covered in the tallest green stalks of the sweetest cane and scattered purple blossoms.
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Now, the land lay bare.
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Tracing the steps to her mothers cabin she paused in awe as the last of the purple blossoms began to lead the way. Stopping short before her old home she gasped. Standing tall and strong, at the peak of its blossom was the last of the purple trees.
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It was as if they had stood guard protecting her story.
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Walking beneath the falling blossoms she smiled imagining her mother dancing upon the petals, free.
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#THEROYALOAK
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