Couldn’t see flaws in the diamond on her finger
And he looked hard as he held her hand
Reality sometimes was hard to pencil into a narrative that worked for him
But he usually found a way to turn the coal in his stocking into something way more valuable
On this occasion, he turned his smile up to eleven to see if that would strike a shattering blow
Nothing could deviate her attention from her fiancé. The boy, on the other hand…
Viewing life through a gauzy sheet of emotions
Everything was fuzzy and slightly off color
It made things less scary and more comfy
Living that way also meant never really knowing what was real
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread was his favorite proverb
It encapsulated his life in ways that spanned from ludicrous to profound
Ever since he was a boy, he would do the near impossible, twist fate into pretzels, and never miss a beat
Reveling in the audacity of the chaos he spread around like seeds from a dandelion caught in a tornado
Could do no wrong, and it was just the way of the universe
Evidently when you held your guardian angel hostage, you could ever be the fool, but were you?
Looking to get him to budge just a bit
Evelyn laid out her argument like a lawyer
Vivid and concrete examples of the whys
Everything out in the open, she waited for his decision
Really her dad had no way to say no because if he tried she would pull out her pouty lip and well…
The faster he beat the air, the more chaotic they seemed to play.
Everyone following their own beat, toes tapping in irregular rhythms.
Melody and harmony intertwined in ways not intended by any involved in its creation.
Pushing those in the audience to cringe and squirm in their seats.
Obviously, the following ovation was intense. The musicians were kids after all.
Why have such a narrow view of life
It may be natural to focus on oneself
Don’t limit yourself in that way.
Expand to asking what others are experiencing. You might be surprised at what gifts you discover.
On camera, the room looked round.
Viewed from the inside, however, that was definitely not the case.
And why did they decide to make a space, especially such an important one, that way?
Look, they were still British in their own special way, so why not.
Selling pieces of his soul was the only way he could get ahead
They were not large pieces, but they all added up
Outside everything was fine, but inside, the echoes of who he had been became a cacophony
Relegating his self-worth into moral bankruptcy
Eventually, he ran out of product, closed up shop, and faded from memory
Every word he wrote on the paper was a bucket full of holes
Making them equally as worthless at holding anything inside
Perhaps he should just give up now and save the time and effort
Though it did make the lifting of each one easier in its own way
Yes, maybe he would haul of them into place now since it was easy and spackle it all together during rewrites
Giving money away like it was going out of style
Reaching deep into their wallet to make everything happen
And boy did they. They were a walking talking party
From sunup till way past sundown, sometimes for twenty-four hours straight
Then one day their aunt realized where her money was going, and he suddenly had none.
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
AUTHOR
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Never Short On Words 