In the movie the girl stands On a bridge over infinite clouds. Below, a vast chasm. The stones are cold Under her hands, but there is sun On her face and she closes her eyes. A memory slides into focus. Grandmother telling a story, A…

i wish you were here, so i could tell you to bring milk, full cream. i can’t drink tea without it. how could i, sip just ruby, hot water by itself. any more than i can live by myself.

He could have served her tea before the conversation swerved to seeing her at the station with Jack who she dated back before they met. “Will you leave me for Jack?” She left upset, He remained, gazing at the leaves in her cup.

Ancient medicine Healing herbs Sunshine Secrets passed from generation to generation Hands tending to Gardens Drawing woven in with good intentions A prayer to deities Magical decoctions infusions of the mystical and powerful and the natural Herbs Blended with a natural know how Tea Awakening

Author’s Note: Yeah…I’m too addicted to the music I’m listening to do the Hour Eleven Prompt, so I’m going to do something that’s similar to one of the later prompts, except I’m not going to talk in the point of view of a well known…

My neighbour irons nights at her first floor window keeping one eye for Love Island, the other on me, After 6 months she asked if I’d be buying curtains with such conviction it sounded like she’d witnessed something still to happen.   These unemployed years…

I wanted to try a Golden Shovel poem from an earlier prompt tonight. I happened to do this one, also on loss. From W.B. Yeats – When You Are Old “But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you”     The weather was always…

and proverb too, its walls unblemished by strikes that snuff the brightest stars. Pick one, toss it to the grieving. Study their faces for gratitude. Now picture this: You cradle your breathless child, kiss his face, surrender her to men in masks and gowns. Imagine…

Solana sat at the kitchen table, tapping her saucer with a spoon. She could barely see it anymore, but she remembered The yellow roses from years of use, and the cup in her hand Was familiar and comforting.   Her son thought she was vain…

Inspired by a line from Weldon Kees’s “Five Villanelles” — “We must remain until the roof falls in.” LIGHTS OUT The darkness invites us to stretch and dawdle, and we do, pouring more wine, telling more tales. We must be tired, but we stretch, pretend…