(Photo: Beth Hope on Unsplash)
She became an essence.
A sliver
Of her dreams.
Nothing near the child
She’d been, who played
A fairy’s magic theme,
With arms a fledgling’s
Widespread
Wings.
Life tossed her
From the nest.
Unhinged.
She a feather now.
A mere sliver
Of a being.
For the dVerse Quadrille challenge of: Sliver
(Photo: Tom Pumford on Unsplash)
Her fingertips betrayed her. Flitting over the edge of her shirt. Spinning the loose string that twirled and fluttered in loops of tightening and release.
He might come. He might not.
Her quiet hope.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of: Flutter in 34 words
She placed the heavy chairs just so. Added a table that was dumped in front of the Crumble Cafe when the owners changed and the new management did away with all the old stuff. Staff included.
All of them kicked to the curb.
She had no job, but could be a foster mama to a table.
Especially as she had already two chairs waiting. Cast iron to pair with the castoff.
“A table for two,” she told Harriet.
Harriet made herself comfortable. On the table.
“Really?” Mattie laughed.
Harriet swished her tail in feline approval.
Cream and crumpets.
Perfect pair.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt © Rowena Curtin
(Photo: Laurenz Heymann on Unsplash)
They would have gladly helped.
If he had let them.
If only he had found
The key
To what his dreams
Put forth.
If only he had known
How to identify
What were so many
Opened doors.
Instead, they watched,
Helplessly muted
To his ears,
As he fumbled,
Lost,
Amidst a maze of what
Were to him
Opaque,
Endless,
Walls.
Their lifelines loose,
Adrift
In the current
Of his
Half-formed
Words.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of: Key in 71 words
“I’ll take the summer off and get it done,” Meyer stated.
“It will take more than a summer,” Bette pointed out. She loved his enthusiasm. She liked half-done projects less. And this one mattered. Immensely.
Meyer’s intended retort fizzled at the look in his wife’s eyes. Love lived there. Love will have to live here, too.
“It has good bones,” he said instead.
“All it is, is bones,” she chuckled. “More likely we’re looking at two years.”
Meyer nodded. “We’ll liquidate other holdings.”
He wrapped an arm around his wife. “It is the right thing, Bette, to build this orphanage.”
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt: © J Hardy Carroll
(Photo: Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash)
Impressed, she was.
The image etched into her mind.
The angle of his neck,
Head bent over the
Guitar,
Engraved
Onto her heart.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of Engrave in 23 words
Photo: Mick Haupt on Unsplash
Madam Toole
Had a rule:
No one sitting
On her stool.
That chair
Was her
Jewel.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of “rule” in 16 words
(Photo: Deann DaSilva on Unsplash)
She knew she never should have let it run
Amok.
Should have kept it
Always
Locked.
But she wobbled
At the sight of keys under the
Rock.
It ran,
Before she could even feign
Shock.
For Sammi’s weekend writing prompt of Amok in 35 words
(Photo: Ray Fragapane on Unsplash)
They didn’t know then
Or still
What track life will
Bring.
Yet they hold on,
By bootstraps
Hoping
For just enough breath with which to
Sing,
To the sun
That would rise,
To the hope
That would
Cling.
Till dawn will
Another story
String.
For dVerse Quadrille Poetry challenge
They didn’t know when Power would return.
When they’d be allowed to leave.
Only that it would have to.
Because it had been promised. And they’d been raised to listen. And believe.
The grid was down. The streets were bare. The shelves that once were filled to the brim were naked in the lanterns’ glare.
It mattered none.
When they had faith.
Power had said, before he left, the back of the car packed with goods he “had to take to the needier elsewhere,” that they were meant to wait, “indefinitely, if need be.”
An test of faith.
Till death.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
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