The floods are coming to mark an end to my break –
to dream days in my terraced cabin.
I heed the neighbour’s warnings and move on out,
lingering on wood-slatted patio – watching
the last one leave.
Still time, I think, to step back in –
still time to gather up my things –
my pencils, brushes and notebooks.
Still time to float.
Feet dangling, I sit on patio edge,
dipping my toes into salty-water
Copyright owned by Jay Cool
Inspired by ‘Portraitures & Erasures’ by Chiwan Choi.
Image from Pixabay.com (Creative Commons).
Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian
Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.
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One thought on “The Flood”
The Floods come because the Bogs been blocked again by your filthy habits!
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