Spring was when he cried. When the leaves fell, making a golden floor, he would dance and kick. In Winter, he would laugh and keep giggles in ice to make drinks fizz. Summer was the time of quiet warmth. But Spring, he visited and sat on his grave to remember.
Random Word: Spring
impressive short story!
ReplyDeletePainful memories associated with seasons come back to haunt us year after year, yet, there are somethings we need to remember as well. Great photo for the piece too.
ReplyDeletevery nice 55...there are certain times of the year that are heavy for memory for me. spring is not one of them luckily...
ReplyDeletemy 55 is up...
great 55. Enjoyed, you have a wonderful writing style.
ReplyDeleteMine is up @
That Pain
I'm glad you sent the wrong link as well as the right on. I really enjoyed this. It's a little morsel of prose poetry, which is my favorite form.
ReplyDeleteThanks for visiting my 55.