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