She passed away
on a sunny
summer Sunday,
not a single cloud
in the sky.
No time for
regrets, tears,
or laments;
only just enough
time to die.
After all these years
And all those tears
With all her scars
And baseless fears
She always thought
Or hoped I guess that
Death might give some
notice, some alarm
at the last.
Instead she smelled
honeysuckle on the
wind and for some
reason heard
the dull roar of
thunder on this
cloudless day.
A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.
Doing the best I can with what I have
kind of sad, but not so bad with cheese. cheese not provided.
My streams of thought meet here
Conceptual Photographer and Writer
Ramblings
Killer Fiction
Music and Storytelling
Besteesydian
A bit of this...A bit of that...bit of everything...come on in...
Life in a flash - a bi-weekly storytelling blog
MARK PETRUSKA | WRITER
Short essays about novels and other fictional works
By Ian Garrabrant
Home of Micropoetry, Literature, art and philosophy.
Just a fiction writer, trying to reach the world.
I'd curtsy but I'm drunk.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
Beautiful! I wish I could write poetry!x
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Thank you. I honestly am not sure I write poetry as much as I just jot down thoughts.
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Well it works! 🙂 x
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I’m glad you like it. That particular poem came about after a texting teenaged driver almost ran over me during my morning walk.
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You are an amazing poet. Beautiful.
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Thanks; although, I’m not sure about the amazing part.
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That was really lovely.
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Thanks so much. The darned thing came to me after I was almost hit by a texting teenaged driver while out on my morning walk. Inspiration comes in many forms.
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Wow! Moving. Sorry that you almost got hit by a car, though!
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I’m so glad you were not smashed and lived another day to pen this lovely melody in words. I totally get it. But I don’t see your error. Was there an error?
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Well maybe. Thanks so much!
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