Free verse, loosely inspired by and written for OLWG#81
the old man sits in the window, warm with the fire,
and stares into the yard,
the yard that Martha tended,
shadow children play chase in the weeds
‘midst brown leafless shrubbery.
the brick path, laid so many years ago,
now covered with a thick blanket of brown and golden leaves
stirring slightly in the breeze.
I really must tend the garden, he says aloud, and
turns back to the task at hand.
the task at hand is, of course, sculpting drums
sculpting ceramic drums
it’s how he fills his days since Martha and the children passed.
build them and skin them
with drumheads of Afghani goat hide
decorate them using bright greens, blues, and Merlot coloured glaze
hang Tibetan prayer beads on, and always
watch the shadow children scamper among the weeds.
This week’s prompts were:
- ceramic drums
- a bee in your bonnet
- shadow children