Scene It!

The trees shakes stiffly in the breeze, like an old man's hand when he tries to bring his spoon to his mouth. The oatmeal usually spills. Sometimes it spills into the sky like the small chimney on the roof spills carbon dioxide into the air. It swirls in the air. It looks soft and harmless, like a cloud does to a child. I remember when I was little I used to get so excited over fog because I thought the clouds had come to visit me and wanted to be my friend.

I never noticed how much pollution cloaks our skies or how much waste we throw out that we could have recycled. It's funny to me because years ago when my grandmother was little, they didn't recycle. They never thought they would need to for some reason. They thought things would all work out on their own. But they don't and now it is approaching to late and soon our whole world will be coated in a thick black veil of poison.

Isn't that pleasant?