Crumbs seductively line Corian countertops – abundance for flies, I understand It’s a trap! I’d warn, but buzz is not a language familiar to my
Hush Child; you are safe – torment ended, threat dispersed – we have survived, whole. (Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt is child & safe.)
Strawberries ripen, their blood-red sweetness staining the cheeks of students whose bodies, unripened, rail against the conformity of stiff backed chairs and bolted down desks.
The loom on which I weave these threads is more foreboding than machinery These fibers neither silken nor wool, cottoned from misadventures, miscommunications, and inner
If searching for love was like shopping for shoes, I’d fixate on the simplest of finds, choosing practicality over fashion flair. My preference is for
Picnicking with mother happened only once – The summer’s day a perfect pitch of bright, the breeze a welcome companion Laid our cloth atop rickety