Thursday, 19 August 2010

On the day I heard

I picked a poppy once,
a different red
and knew death
is what breaks
so many men
because it can't be fixed
or talked away.

So I won’t be brave,
for a victory
but for the smell of a rose
she once brought me
as it droops
in the water.

Random Word: Grief

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Welcome and thanks for dropping in. I'll pop by yours by and by.

This blog was inspired by First 50 words where you freewrite from a single word prompt. I use random words or images to create flash fiction in formats ranging from twitter postcards to short short stories.