Trudging through dark, rain-drenched streets, sodden feet sliding over cobbles, hope ebbs away, like rivulets flowing over muddy gutters. The storm rages beyond the border, and wave upon wave of the cowed and the cowering flee; families struggling, dragging straggling old folk and hungry, wailing kids. Doors open, women beckon, many are taken in. But not us.
and now the streets are empty will we ever find refuge?
Image credit: Carter Saunders @ Unsplash The image shows a red neon sign that reads “Vacancy” over a black background.
Written in response to
‘s Sadje photo prompt What Do You See #123 Like this: Like Loading...
fern fronds caress the moonlight’s cobalt rays
opening night blooms to scent bright butterfly wings
ringing bluebells dancing over dead leaves and distant hearts
ever beating, glowing in the heart of darkness
sending saffron sunbeams sliding over silky loams
tempting new life to rise from the ink-dark dead of night
Written in response to Sadje ’s photo prompt. What Do You See #34
Image credit: Pixabay Like this: Like Loading...
Light, white-blinding, unable to move.
Where am I?
Try to remember.
I came through The Door.
I remember now.
Flying, over the earth, outside my body,
Looking down upon myself
at the whiteness of the sheet
No need for wine or water.
No need for bread or meat.
I have entered through The Door.
Seeing through the glass darkly,
the way ahead unclear,
but my mind (my soul?) is moving on.
No need for the corporeal,
Set adrift, cast aside,
On the other side of The Door.
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What do you see, Tiger Lily?
I see the moon.
I see the path shining in front of me, illuminated in the bright moonlight.
What do you feel, Tiger Lily?
I feel the dampness of the night.
I feel the ground, wet beneath my feet.
What do you hear, Tiger Lily?
I hear waves breaking on a shore far away.
Do I hear you breathing?
Why can’t I see you?
What do you smell, Tiger Lily?
I smell the dampness of the earth.
Where are you?
What do you taste, Tiger Lily
I taste nothing.
What do you remember, Tiger Lily?
I remember when we first met; on a moon-bright night like this.
I remember… everything.
And what do you want, Tiger Lily?
I want you back.
Written in response to The Haunted Wordsmith’s Daily Prompt 28.04.19 Like this: Like Loading...