Watching Him: a drabble

Watching him is like watching clouds in a blue sky. I never seem to be able to tear my gaze away. He has a hundred different expressions.

These days I mostly see worry, scrutiny. I am a mystery, a problem to solve, a puzzle to work out.

I watch emotions flit across his face like a thousand precious butterflies searching for nectar, for the sweetness life has to offer.

He is so serious now, until I touch him and he stops and his brown eyes soften and a shy smile moves over his face.

This is how he loves me.

19 May 2018

Spin Me: a drabble

“Spin me,” she whispered.

Her words caught on the wind before floating away into nothingness, never making it to his questioning gaze.

She could lose herself in those eyes, had lost herself in that gaze.

Not on this day.

With a sad smile and a soft sigh she turned away and slowly began to spin and spin and spin until she was dizzy and giddy with freedom. Her laughter filled the rafters with song while doves beat their wings frantically looking for a way out.

She lifted her arms in devotion and let herself fall into the cacophony of sound.

21 April 2018
Sussex Coast, England

Her Northern Skies: a drabble

It was one of those gray days, heavy with damp and fog. She sees everything through a new filter now, slower, thick with lost dreams.

When she first moved to the French Quarter she was told the way to keep everything new and fresh was to always gaze up at the rooftops.

Now she was thousands of miles away from that time. The weight of the past caused her to stumble on the cracked pavement. As she caught herself she looked up at her northern skies. Her breath caught at the beauty and held for just a beat too long.

15 April 2018
Sussex Coast, England

 

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When the River Becomes Your Home

 

When the river becomes your home, when Virginia, with stones stuffed deep in her pockets, seems more romantic than tragic, you learn two things about yourself.

First, you were born in the wrong time and second, you’ve reached the limit of what you can handle in this nightmare called life.

It doesn’t mean you won’t go on. It doesn’t mean you won’t keep putting one foot in front of the other. It just means you’ll never be the same. It means the joy of walking is lost in a tempting image of Virginia with stones stuffed deep in her pockets.

Photos by Robin Dalton
Climping Beach, Sussex

Something Beautiful [a drabble]

I am looking out to sea with the sound of a mournful train whistle fading in the distance.

There are crushed flowers beneath my feet.

He said, “Watch closely. The humpbacks are migrating south. If you’re lucky you’ll see powerful exhalations of breath escape through the tops of their heads..”

I think that now he is gone all breath, all breathing, all signs of life are grand miracles.

I have been holding my breath. Just as I let go to live again, I see it.

Far off in the distance a whale blessing me with the sight of his breathing.

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