What doesn’t stay
Sand falls less quickly
Hourglasses choke today
What I lost
Buried deep in past
Things devolved in value
My mind describes
Shadows in solid touches
Still thinking it matters
Time doesn’t know
Nor care about me
Dust in the wind
A small cringe closes upon me. Like a wild wolf cajoling me, your practice of heaping praise seems more than kind. My eyes close to hide the blight called twisted love.
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Enisa. Thank you Enisa!
Allen stirs at the embers of the fire. The flames have grown weary, flickering hesitantly and disappear. The heat still reaches out on long fingers alternating with touches of chill. Undeterred, he fans at them to coax a little more life. Tiny ashen flurries dance around him barely visible in the night.
His face shows the taste of desperation. Lines set about his eyes seem to catch every shadow the palid glow can forge. The conflict of knowing the coldness of tomorrow’s ash and hopes that the flames return fight out within his head. The only response is continuous stirring.
“Seriously, you’re making any chance of talking impossible!” Allen tries to break through the hard exterior of his enraged wife you no avail.
Yet still he stirs the embers going the fire returns.
6. Moment of Tangency
Watch video for definition
Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem
The words can appear in an alternate form
Use the words in any order that you like.
Tag: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Wordle
Butterflies sway. Images whisper from mocha pupils. Fragile dreams flash like flickering eyelashes. Sultry illusions tainted with sweat, perch on the veranda overlooking our moment of tangency.
“Have we met?” You ask.
“Oh, no” I reply.
This week’s cue is minute.
I became lost in the moment. My mind hovering on the most minute details. If I could hope to hold on to the sliver of time trapped by within one minute.
My eyes want to believe the memory will endure. I collect sixty second scraps of life to build a dream. I know my chances are minuscule.
If we just stayed further away. The hustle and bustle of traffic. Tourists crammed together. Sneaking outbid steal a parking spot. When does it go bad?
Gretchen is a eight foot blue tipped shark. She patrols the sea wall. The edge of the bay where people snorkel and the open ocean where the boats sail. If I needed to get rid of someone….
Gretchen is a gentle soul. The cleaner of the beach.. Her sixty years is nothing more than a scale of time. Her role is to patrol. Opportunist. Call for justice. But the question is where the fish or person is to blame.
A bucket of chum floats in the distance. Gretchen waited for more.