brown, orange, and red
colours a palette of Fall
for painting Autumn
by cabin four, sitting on a crooked step
forest sounds could be heard
trees whispering
brooks babbling on
birds fight for a sleeping spot
Photo By: Sara Swain
street of dampened cobblestone
dirty pigeons and trampled smokes
where marquee lights faded in the creeping sun
and police cruiser chirps, shooed on
as randoms of strangers filter out of holes in the walls
scurrying from the light
with squinted eyes, messed up hair…
empty pockets and smeared makeup
they all zombie
stagger…stumble…kiss and curse
down a drunk-filled stretch
past half-eaten pizza by the atm
after the hot dogs being served with rotten hands
before the guy with the sign looking for money
next to the lady who bums cigarettes
while muffled beats still play out
faint
like the night is still hanging on
barely
to dull-sounding music like life support
it makes you sick as you stand there
then you laugh for no reason
check your pockets
and hail that holy cab
Sunday morning
I could smell the scent of church perfume
Nan must have just left
Pop is cooking me eggs and mmm…eggs like no others
special
for me
he loved it
taking his time, trying not to break the yolk
my thing, his thing, our thing
then I appeared
through the kitchen archway
straight to the table and that inside chair
my spot til university
pop’s service was top-notch
always repeating no more
then you turn the tiny knob
on the black and white tiny old TV
cracks of static at first
our favorite show flickers and plays on
it must be ten o’clock now
because the sun is stretching through the window
reaching the rocking chair
where pop is sitting in listen
here’s to adventure
here’s to romance
here’s the Cisco kid
not a word is spoken
souls in harmony
time in quantity
a moment in quality
memories of black and white
bring me the most colour
Even if I were to give up on writing, I would still have to write it down. – Ash
I cannot believe that it’s you
you’re different
you seemed just like me up to a point
now you’re someone else… but not you
I think that and I don’t want to
your life is a sweet story and I have some of those pages
I would love to share them with you if you have the time
the real you
the one in my thoughts
my memories
my dreams
we are still connected you know
and I feel you sometimes
it might be a random smile I get
or a warm feeling all over
you too I bet
that’s the universe saving us for another day
storing our true feelings for each other
where nobody else can find them
I know that and I know that you know that
so, until another day
That breakfast seven days ago was two piping hot medium-sized pancakes, infused with strawberries and topped with whipped cream. Tera’s comfort breakfast. Her favourite part was when the chilled whipped cream made a sizzling sound each time Roomer added that final touch. She adored that sizzle and loved that special requested morning menu item. She ordered it only on the days when Dr. Cross travelled to or from Earth. When he departed for Earth, its taste made her feel better. When he returned from Earth, its taste made her feel everything. The remaining days of the week between when Dr. Cross was onboard, Tera didn’t care what she had to eat. Never mattered. Everything tasted the same. The rest of the menu was bland like how time felt when Dr. Cross was away from the space station. Her days and nights seemed long, drawn out, and completely drab. The only form of excitement she experienced was watching the calendar by her bed flip to a new date bringing her closer and closer to when she would see Dr. Cross again. See her Eric again.
Continue reading “Story Jots # 14 (b) – This Droid Heart”
Reading into things for me always turns out to be write. – Ash
The circus is over, now comes the real fun…
Writing’s a breeze when you start by airing out your thoughts first. – Ash
Earth To Ash 