You sit at your desk
Hoping to take on today;
Pencil, pen, coffee in hand,
A plan in head.
Paper holds its weight.
Something will surely stir up
A connubial literate bliss.
But soft!
No light through yonder window.
What breaks is the mug
Which even a simple mind
Would never think of holding
By the heat of its boiling body.
Forbidding mind of mine
Lacking in mercy.
During the worst of times.
Now is no time for games ‘n clumsy
Now is the time–
It is our moment–
To seize and achieve
Orthographic ecstasy
Where pencil & paper
Become One.
Giving rise to a new creature
Born of the ashes of
Shattered mugs
And graphite shavings,
Dipped to the heels
With the ink of fallen
Ballpoint pens.
My creature shall rise above!
My creation!
My divine design!
Until you rise again
This stain will be
My carpet’s demise…
About the Creator
XM
Language: Romance, Hobbies: Temporary, Limits: Theoretically-- None; Realistically-- Some.
Final Call
She flings her arms around my neck and squeezes me like she’s never going to let me go. My head spins as her lips brush against my cheek. She must be able to feel my heart thumping in my chest. I shuffle backwards and ram my hands into my coat pockets, watching her reach down and heave the rucksack across her shoulders.
By Caroline Cravena day ago in Fiction
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