via Daily Prompt: Treat
Prompt Word: Treat
My brother (the Tall Boy who does no wrong) and I silently cheer in the back seat as my grandmother (thinning hair, perpetual Smile) turns right into the ice cream store parking lot. Time skips–cone in my hand, liquid sugar dripping down my hand, blind to the future on a chocolate high.
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Manicured lawn divides
Lawyer-man with glossy wife
From converse-, apron- clad
Mary, our copper haired collegian
Teachers haven’t stopped for her,
Empty corner desks can’t stand in Progress’s Way
His office chair looks out on Power Alley
20-something interns learn the art
Of turning profit while their professor
Holidays, golf balls streak across September sky
Mary watches them with aqua eyes
And ties her apron with debter’s hands
They’ll serve breakfast to save tuition
The model-gone-Broker’s wife glances
And hates the would-be student for
The life Mary is free to build or burn
And with that, I hesitate–my heavy boot dangling in the air just outside my car’s door.
The moon’s rays ricochet off the trees and draw my gaze upward, his single eye reflecting my world. Yet this small mirror-circle also transforms it as his muted light casts a spell on the sleepy neighborhood. When I wave to the celestial figure, I hear no reply. But something tells me he’ll be waiting to see me again tomorrow night. His elders travel through their seasons in constellation caravans, but the lunar fellow stays at our side. He hears the tides cry out for him to keep his demure, unshakable course. Good night, my friend.
Willow Grey in terms of her ideal day:
As clouds overtake the sun, I’d leave with book, pencil, and textured paper in hand. Let rain and cold meet me with my knit cap and scrappy boots, and I’ll walk till I can no more.
I’d find a tree-friend and linger there–reading and writing what no one who knows me thinks I can.
As night replaces dusk, fireflies emerge to watch their cosmic counterparts dot infinity. Prayers take hold of my pen, asking God to join our reverential party.