The Hemingway Day. The Drunk.

 

 

Good Friday to you all. May your weekend be spent bare-footed with flowers in your hair (it’s summer solstice on Sunday, get those sunlight hours in while you still can).  Here’s a few short fiction words and a rainbow hued photo from The Hemingway Day…

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The Drunk.

My personality was locked in bottles.

Rat.

The poetic task on this happy Friday was to write an elegy on the subject of ‘fog’, using a metaphor. Here goes…

Rat.

Rat

The sight was hazed, the stature awry,

When whistling chaperoned the blindness.

Our bones would knock as sea-sick rocks,

As we tripped the dance of the inebriated.

 

Thanks to the Daily Post for the photo prompt.