Gathering
Three sisters sit, toes drifting in warm sand
Sun sets in crimson hues on the sea’s horizon
Wine glasses raised, they solemnly toast
Times shared long ago but not forgotten
Who could have known what would befall
Both parents passed on too young
A fourth sister left, full of her own conceits
Unable to stay her harsh tongue
Memories of childhood, lived innocently
Before the world became too much
Laughter sounds softly and smiles emerge
Our lives need a gentler touch
(Prompt: Write about gathering with others.)
Love piece. Gentle images, except for the one. Great balance and movement. Thank you.
Thank you so much. I struggled with the second stanza, and how to properly transition the feeling into the third. I’m open to suggestions or comments on what didn’t work for you. 🙂
Oops. I was unclear. Your sister’s harsh tongue is in good contrast. Sorry not to have been clear. I think it is well balanced. ❤️
Thank you for the clarification. :))