seasgull prompt
Image source, for The Sunday Muse prompt #74

Like the slowly louder clunks
a train’s wheels send ahead,
as it wends its way along ancient tracks,
the old man’s memories float
slowly to the fore, the streaks
of dappled light dancing
on the walls behind his face
a spotlight, falling on him
the same way it falls on
a minstrel at a cabaret, drawing a hush
out of the muted mumblings of the gathered.
Though his wrinkled skin, once soft
now lies wrinkled, warped and folded
and his fingers once supple now lack dexterity,
like a seagull resplendent in its freedom
the memories of past songs return,
the track and the piano fusing in
a crescendo refusing to be silenced.



muse photo

Photography by Svetlana Belyaeva click HERE for website. For the Sunday Muse Prompt #71

Where fear once threaded
its tiny tendrils through our
feet, and captive hearts

We choose to fly free
leaving behind the safety
of this confined space.

Because though freedom
only is a promise, it
trumps certain defeat.