Prompt 16 Hour 13



look at those hedges

untidy and blathering


imagine the stories they hold

deep in the worn mulch of their roots


verbose I am sure

as cluttered as the home they rest


look at those eaves filled

with last years leaves


unconscionable the weight

they bear to save rain from her hair


this woman not yet thirty

yet unsound and unworthy


look at her dress

a rainbow of a mess


how must she survive? does she not know

this world of judgmental eyes?


waiting to pounce on her

waiting to see


if she has an answer

for the who? what? or we?


I suppose she doesn’t care

Perhaps she is not all there.


or perhaps her happiness

is in a place without stares


a place we will never know

while using judgemental glares.


C. Churchill


for we cant see past

white picket fences or



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