Despite the fact that the bright yellow sun was already up and gleaming beautifully in the deep-blue sky, Little Nicky felt cold and was shivering worse than a tiny scared lone kitten lost in snowy terrain. The beautiful butterflies swarming around the colourful flowers ought to have inflicted a feeling of joy, pleasantness and satisfaction in him but instead, Little Nicky's heart was laden with grief, sorrow and an incomprehensible sense of dissatisfaction.
From where he was sat, on the spotless sort green grass, Little Nicky could hear melodious sounds emanating from the joyfully twittering birds, zooming in and out of tall trees around him. He could also hear the gentle whooshing sound from a nearby river, as it slowly meandered its way downstream. All this resonant sounds filled the atmosphere with a sweet symphony of melodious tunes bound to stimulate even the coldest of hearts but nevertheless, but Little Nicky's feeling of sadness did not recede.
The environment in which he calmly sat was magnificent, yes, and the sounds filling this environment were angelic to say the least, but neither Little Nicky, nor the flurry of butterflies now fluttering obliviously over his shaggy head could fathom the source of his never-ending state of melancholy.
A brightly coloured sparrow, keen on twittering louder than its counterparts, gently flew lower and lower, perching cooly on a rose flower bush not far away from where Litle Nicky sat by his lonesome. Little Nicky, in his strange state of despondency stretched a tiny dirty hand to touch the elegant bird, which as if disgusted by Little Nicky's hand, flew away astonishingly fast, perching on a tall thorny tree, well-away from Little Nicky's reach. And as Little Nicky stared at the sparrow, cold tears trickled down his bony cheeks, and, in that moment in time, Little Nicky woke up with a start.
From where he was sat, on the spotless sort green grass, Little Nicky could hear melodious sounds emanating from the joyfully twittering birds, zooming in and out of tall trees around him. He could also hear the gentle whooshing sound from a nearby river, as it slowly meandered its way downstream. All this resonant sounds filled the atmosphere with a sweet symphony of melodious tunes bound to stimulate even the coldest of hearts but nevertheless, but Little Nicky's feeling of sadness did not recede.
The environment in which he calmly sat was magnificent, yes, and the sounds filling this environment were angelic to say the least, but neither Little Nicky, nor the flurry of butterflies now fluttering obliviously over his shaggy head could fathom the source of his never-ending state of melancholy.
