FFAW – Interesting Display

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Yarnspinnerr. Thank you Yarnspinnerr

“None of them match?!” Joseph whispers to Joan.

She scans the rainbow display unfettered.

“The sizes aren’t even together.” Joseph continues.

She homes in a few different ones.

“I mean… This bizarre has all kinds stores.” His voice wavers. “I don’t get why we are here.”

She grabs two golden sandals from from different display boards.

“Are you even listening!” He looks at the side of her smiling face.

“The guy behind the counter is blind but not deaf.” She smiles the married woman smile that translates he is not with me.

92 words


Sunday Whirl – Sudden End

The sliver of chain shines. Her face wears disdain by design, while the rest of her dresses to the nines. Secretly, some feign shock but jealousy trains some for the crime afoot.

“My god.. ..she’s not breathing!” Someone tells. The reception grinds to a halt.

Rolling with a Breeze

I drift back

Thoughts tumble away

Leaves run chasing Sun

Chills dance in shadows

The change comes quickly

I drift away

Anticipation for color builds

Loothing the warmth leaving

Deep sapphire skies await

Leaves pale ready to change

I drift along

Embracing the crisp

Final flowers bloom brightly

The gentle breezes talk

I roll with them

What’s on the Wall?

Welcome to Week 137 of Three Line Tales.

three line tales, week 137: an abandoned asylum
photo by Nathan Wright via Unsplash

“No one had been able to see the house since the previous owner passed away.” Sheila opens the door for the Bailey’s.

“What happened to them?” Bill ponders as the daylight enters.

“Sudden heart attack and he was relatively young.” Sheila answers.


Golden strands locked in place

They lift my spirit up higher

Upon their web answers lie

Fixed like stars they guide me

Runaway train forcing the story

Puzzles together as never separated

Clarity strikes when most vulnerable

If we think about it, it’s coincidence

If we look back it’s just inspiration

FFAW – Dreary Start

This week’s photo prompt is provided by wildverbs. Thank you wildverbs!

The alarm can not remove the mental cobwebs. I shake myself and reach for caffeine inspired cure. My mood seems to melt into the dreary outside. A surely chill finds my back. This was the day of change I promised myself.

I am too old for sudden change. My mind is circumspect to my desire for new paths. Restlessness seems cozy in this grey slimy day. I stare at the door leading me to that sudden change. It seems further away than normal.

Heroic efforts get me upright.

“I have this in me, I know it. I’ll charge through that door” my pep talk does wonders for my weary soul.

I open the door. The grey spills into my face like a cold wet kiss. My energy tries to crash and burn. I realize I have forgotten to dress accordingly.

We will try this again.

145 words

Distant Shores

Do you hear me calling?

Waves seem desperate for contact

My message has no bottle

Rudderless lies adrift like a raft

I know it’ll get through

Blind faith is my temple

Time my worn thin amulet

I have bound these feelings

Silver threads called expectations

I tell my shadow of the day coming

He laughs at the notion

But I have seen the other side

Beheld in the finest dream

Your face kissed by the Sun

Upon these distant Shores

Time I’ll Never Know

The pause before a sigh

The moment that lingers

Thoughts I wanted to cling

Emotions that should have countered

Snipets of memories

Collections of thoughts

Second hand sweeps them by

Calendar buries them quickly

When the afterglow fades

When the smiles straightens

I search so i’ll know next time

Left grasping sand as it slips away

What once was becomes golden

When is the riddle of the universe

I can remember or so I say

I can not place it in order

Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen

Could of happened, I think

Time is a young man’s game

It gets carried in baskets of hope

We sprinkle it about uncaring

One day we look back

Upon a fleeting path we came

Suddenly the basket has a bottom

We look to replace what was spent

Postcards left as mile markers

Recollections fill in gaps

But the image has lost it’s time

Even my shadow sees the enigma

But I ponder where it went

The time I’ll never know

Misty Morning

Dew thick as hope

Flowers glisten

Gentle rays sharpen

Songs of birds linger

Chasing the last chill

Stirring critters stake claims

Soft voices raise and falls

Hustle and bustle awaken

Still soft light beckons

Fields show their life

As the misty morning ages

My Window

Birds sing

I hear their calls

Breezes heavy with scent pass

Distant rain and flowers flash

I create their forests

Tall pines sway

They hide meadows

Grasses rustle among flowers

Bees crisscross frantically

Quiet storms whisper in distance

But the Sun doesn’t yield here

The birds continue to tell

Their story of this place