The 12 inch heel, the confident gait, The measured steps, the sudden halt, The blush on cheeks, the smoldering eyes, The hands on hips, head held high, The silken gown, barely there, A tilt of neck, balanced well, The sultry glance, timed right, Perfect half twirl, played twice, With a graceful swirl, she turns back. The world looks on with stolen breath, Oohs, aahs, applauds, encores. The showstopper’s yesterday, Now hangs in a gallery, Fading parchment, guarded unnecessarily. No shadows of glamour come a-chasing, For vacant eyes and sagging skin, For shattering illusions, hanging questions, Am I never going back? Linking with The Mag : Mag 147 Linking with Write on Edge : The Red Writing Hood - The Gallery Linking with My blog can beat up your blog : 100 Word Song : Never going back to Ok Linking with The Velvet Verbosity : 100 Words - Breath
Sounds exhausting..you captured the scene perfectly with the words you chose. I felt such pity. Must have been an awful heavy wagon. Well done!
ReplyDeleteThank you Kathy ... I am glad that the scene gets conveyed. I really appreciate your visits:)
DeleteStay blessed,
Ruby
You really took me there. Such evocative writing!
ReplyDeleteThank you Susan. Nothing more pleasing to hear than such words. I am glad I could narrate the scene this way
DeleteGreat job conveying his struggle.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Christine. I am glad his struggle came across
DeleteUnique perspective in this little story.
ReplyDeleteThank you Cynk. I am glad to hear such appreciations for this little work
DeleteVery good job describing the events!
ReplyDeleteThank you Donetta
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