Thursday Evenings
'I'm a Voyager into the Ether...'
Thursday, late August,
I can smell the rain.
At last -
The cold.
The day is at rest,
The clouds roll in
Shadows of black and blue,
Voyagers of the sky.
The currents move,
My home still.
A day of cleaning and order,
Children dreaming, the kettle boiled -
Decafe.
The porcelian shipwreck,
One tap, and then the other.
Salts of the sea,
Waves of bubbles.
Tea by the light,
Old book with a broken spine.
Pages gone yellow,
Words dance off
Onto amber walls.
I lay still,
Mind moving.
Rumbling thunder,
Shakes the light.
Stream rises unmatched,
Turning fair to red.
Ether and comfort,
Amniotic darkness.
A witch of the water,
One who dreams
Under the New Moon.
Manifest -
Rest thy soul,
Balance the mind,
Energy in motion.
Silence within,
Harmonises -
Branches of Willow
Slaps the panes -
The rain with it.
Delicate, yet powerful.
Inimate and unique,
The night is here.
Finally -
Breathe.
Fingers wrinkling,
Lips dry
Hair soaked and tangled
Skin fresh - clean.
Ritual complete.
Fresh sheets.
Farewell dear August,
Autumn will fall
Until again.
Tomorrow will arrive,
And yet will never come.
The same day.
Over.
Thursday evenings.
About the Creator
Rosie J. Sargent
Hello, my lovelies! Welcome, I write everything from the very strange to the wonderful; daring and most certainly different. I am an avid coffee drinker and truth advocate.
Follow me on Twitter/X @rosiejsargent97
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insight
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Comments (1)
another ripper - thank you!