Faded Charm

door hostage PhilipCoons

Photo: Philip Coons

 

If you’re broken by worry

Hanging by a thread

Filled with dread,

There are links

That can hold

Even the weary and old,

Who then ride

The hard time

Till restored faded charm.

 

 

For the Thursday Doors challenge

 

Waiting For Sunrise

waiting for sunrise InbarAsif

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

Silently

Night retraced

Steps across

Dawn’s new ledge

As the dark

Slowly braced

For light soon

To emerge.

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Light and dark

 

Bedtime for Luna


PHOTO PROMPT © Gah Learner

 

“So, remember,” her hand on the door’s handle. “Bedtime at 9, only one treat, brush your teeth.”

“And no opening the door for anyone,” he intoned.

At least it got him a smile. There weren’t many of them of late.

She tucked an errant lock of hair behind an ear and suddenly he couldn’t stand it.

“When will you be back?” He knew. He had to ask.

She glanced at the window. The court-order weighed heavy on her mind.

“When Luna goes to bed behind the mountain, I’ll be home.”

For the last time.

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

Eight Not Ate

ducks SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

Eight brown ducks bobbing by

In the shade, under sky

Waiting for humans’ bread

To fall down on their head.

 

For August photo a day challenge

 

Waiting for Sam

Friday Fictioneers’ photo prompt © Roger Bultot

 

He’ll meet her at the exhibition at Noon, he’d promised.

“You’ll see. Twelve on the dot.”

“Like Cinderella?” she had joked.

“Sort of.”

She scanned the crowds, the balconies, the empty domes that rose above like marble skies.

Laughter echoed. People milled around.

She checked her watch again.

It had inched, traitorous, well past twelve o’clock.

Like Cinderella with no fairy godmother, she thought.

Never should have eaten that pumpkin Sam had bought.

 

 

 

To join Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers prompt, click here.

Times Old

Abel Tasman Coast Track2 InbarAsif

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

In the days that unfold

Morning rays

Evening’s gold,

What awaits

Up your sleeve,

Still untold,

Kept in trust

Since times old?

 

 

For The Daily Post