Silent Sunday

A Shadow Fleeting

Beauty is ever to the lonely mind
a shadow fleeting;
she is never plain.
She is a visitor who leaves behind
the gift of grief,
the souvenir of pain.

— Christopher Morley

The Weekly Photo Challenge: Fleeting

Sunlight on the Garden


The sunlight on the garden

Hardens and grows cold,

We cannot cage the minute

Within its nets of gold;

When all is told

We cannot beg for pardon.

Louis Macneice

The Sunlight on the Garden.

Once a Son

Dear Son,

you’re six times six years old today. Six years each as child, boy, adolescent, youth, young man, and youngish man. Now you’re in your prime, though you won’t admit it (yet).

You’ve got a job, a bank account, and a life of your own, but you’re still a son. If you’re lucky, your parents realise you can take care of yourself. You may not need them now, but they still need you.

Look what they did to me to get your attention!

Go ssssee them! Or I’ll sssscratch!



Oh, yes, …and Happy Birthday.

This week’s 100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups is to write a text to go along with the birthday card above (photo via Julia’s place).

* * *

Ready for a new challenge? Try this!
1006words – Paint / shoot 1000 words, write 6.

The Colour of Life

When they caught him they’d shut him away.

He’d been sitting next to his latest victim spattered head to foot. Lost in thought. His fingers idly drawing patterns in a pool of blood.  Almost playing with it. The knife tossed carelessly aside.

They thought he was crazy, He could see the pity in their eyes, once you looked past the horror and disgust.

They just didn’t understand: he only did for the colour. That colour of colours. The colour of rubies. The colour of life. And fresh blood.

What a pity it dried to such an ugly rust brown.

The colour of life.

The 40th edition of the 100wcgu: Ruby.

Close Together