Overhead, a swinging lamp
casts shadows amidst the damp
of a derelict house that still stands
against time’s winds and sands:
A testament to an ingenious man
and the workings of his rough-hewn hands.
On quiet nights, it still lights the way
to fallow field and vine-choked hay.
Tasking their master to return and reap,
wind-blown stalks bend and weep.
My head throbbed. I sighed and rubbed my temples. It was Friday afternoon at the office, and Allie was boasting again about her cream-colored villa in Tuscany.
“I just expanded the polo grounds!” Allie giggled, coquettishly covering her mouth.
I popped an aspirin into my mouth as the new office girls oohed and fawned over her. Among the gray uniforms, Allie stood out at the water cooler. Her fingernails were manicured blood orange today, and they fluttered in circles around the new medal pinned to her breast pocket. Derision burned in my stomach as they skated around the inverted crescent, but I bit my lower lip and went back to my typing. I cracked my knuckles, exhaling in relief as I flexed my out-flung elbows; they no longer touched the walls.
Continue reading “[Fiction] Home Sweet Home”
an abandoned house
sits with boarded windows
as if its inhabitants might return
and sweep away the dust
Someone abandoned a basket at my door
A black and white kitten with two little paws
Perched over the rim with a wary twitch
Scared frozen though I’m sure the itch
Of wanting to flee throbs strong with fear
So I’ll wait a while before I hold him dear
And tell him, from now on, your home is here.
Writer’s Note: Today marks my 3rd year here on WordPress! Thank you readers, for sticking around. =)
Lost in the forest
Brushing aside yellow leaves
A setting sun drifts
Yearning for my seaside town
I taste wet salt on my lips
Leaving his shell
for a passerby to claim,
a snail outfits himself in new garb.
He carries with him a home
he can fit in comfortably,
the burden he left behind.
A fisherwoman sits upon
the edge of her gondola
steadying her raft.
She anchors her toes on
slippery stones beneath,
sure-footed and wet.
In a floating nest,
she rocks herself home.
Gambling on frost-bitten carnations
A handful for the vase at home
Red blooms in a mere six hours
Show the results of hope and warmth
Racing the sunset
A flock of pigeons fly home
Night rouses awake
Here is something I learned from my mother:
Non-acceptable ways of venting anxiety include
Complaining to friends
But cleaning the house puts not only your home in order
It gives you time to put yourself in order