Missing an opening
running to see the old house
I can't find an opening to come back home
I jogged around the family house
Dark roof, bright walls
Green bushes yellow pine trunks dark green
There is no path at the back
that land was sold by someone too
the new people still have my candle lanterns on the balcony
the wood is painted dark brown against the white plaster
I didn't remember the area to be so damp
I wanted the dirt road leading home to still be bright sandy yellow
I don't think it was today
About the Creator
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More stories from Anna Jelonek-Nowakowska and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author7 days ago in Fiction
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