Tag Archives: age

Six Word Stories: Age

Broken whistle: I need a pea.

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Childhood Lost

Beneath crayola skies, we lingered,
Watching little butterflies flit between branches,
Laughing at the starlings as they caused kerfuffles
That only they knew
And only they could end.
This place of colour, light and creation,
Unsullied by adolescent snobbery
And adult ignorance, bewitched us.
When did we lose it?
When did we lose us?
We sit looking at a leaden heaven
Impervious even to X-ray eyes,
Refusing to divulge either answers or lies
With weights heavier than hearts should be
Pulling at our cavernous chests.
This is not us.
This is not the way we should be.
Childhood has bequeathed us everything
And delivered nothing,
Yet to return is considered a backward step:
It is only step to regain that innocent joy.

50 Word Stories: The Catch

We always said we'd be there to catch each other. You do when you're young and in love. We were so convinced, so sure of our commitment that when we fell, it came as a genuine shock. Well, maybe less so for me. I had my hands behind my back.

50 Word Stories: The Loneliness of Time

There’s a coffee steaming on the table. I hate drinking alone, but you’ve got to do something to stay warm. Curlicues of dispersed heat rise like ghosts departing the dawn; I’m sure one winks. Another day begins with a slurp and a cough. This is my mantra. I’m crying again.

50 Word Stories: Viewpoints

Every elephant carried a suitcase tucked neatly under its tusks. Marching down the high street in one long line, the elephants bowed to each passer by in turn, then wandered out of town.

“Where are they going?” said the adults as one.

“Who packed their trunks?” laughed all the children.

Elsewhere / Somewhere / Nowhere

Time cascades

Where once it streamed

Life pouring over the precipice

In torrents of me

A most magical tumbling

If one accepts it

Of liquid and light

A return to the womb

Cocooned in a separate reality

This curtain of creation falls

Upon a rock-strewn stage

There is no avoiding it

I await the last connection

The hardest landing

Before the water

Washes me away

Elsewhere

Somewhere

Nowhere

Or all

50 Word Stories: Seventeen?

She said she was seventeen. She looked her given age, her clothing fashionable, worn with a hint of disdain, her figure slim and supple. It was her that eyes gave her away. They knew too much. I pitied her then, and she saw it. I regret it to this day.