Song of Yvette

The little girl accidentally wandered on the old rail-track. Now mostly an overgrown pathway. She had heard the road was forbidden. Talked about in hushed tones. Curiosity got better of her and she walked on. Alone. Ignoring the whimpering dog.
The trees, lush and green. The birdcalls loud. The footfalls crisp. The sun overhead, strong.
Derelict caravan. Angelic gypsy. Silk on her skin, flowers in her hair and song on her lips.
Yvette!
Wasn't she a myth? A folklore?
Perhaps.
The little girl was found on rail-tracks. Enamoured by the phantasma. Talking to herself. And singing the song of Yvette.

Courtesy : Friday Fictioneers

Linking with Friday Fictioneers

Opaline iridescence

Over a cup of coffee,
We
Decided our life.
As the orangish hues
Streaked the skies,
Overtalked
About the
Oncoming Odyssey.
Okayed our presence
In our lives
Under the
Obscuration of the moon.
Becoming oxygen.
Covertly and
Yet so overtly,
Desirous
Of one another.
Overtaking,
Overcoming
And overwhelming
Anchor.
Over the pious flames,
And amidst
A thousand omens,
We vowed.
Opting sanctimoniously
To obstinately,
Obdurately
Live together
Till
Death does us apart.
Infantile gaming
Over the rocking cradle,
Occasionally racking our brains
Over
Chemistry and physics.
Over a cup of coffee,
In an old-age home,
We remembered
The opaline iridescence.

Linking with Alphabe-thursday : Letter O
Linking with Velvet Verbosity : 100 words : Cup