Visiting relatives on a Sunday afternoon after church
Three haikus
Grandfather clock stands
Proudly observing each
Generation play
Tick tock tick tock tick
Clunk clunk clunk. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong.
Tock tick tock tick tock
Grandchildren wiling
Away another Sunday:
Games in the hallway.
About the Creator
Beth Sarah
We've been scribbled in the margins of a story that is patently absurd
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson2 days ago in Fiction
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