Well, it's Friday again, so it's time to write with JD Mader over at his home, Unemployed Imagination - www.jdmader.com/2015/06/2-minutes-go.
The idea is to write for 2 minutes - some people write longer - and
you just go for it, without looking back and editing. Head over to play
or just read. Have a
great weekend! :) This is the third piece I wrote.
Strokes
Colour. I race through colours, all of them – a dipping stream of dizzying brushstrokes
zipping the majestic. Me. Just me. I am not you and neither are you me. I used
to be an extension, an extra limb, a twin almost to your individuality. The
echo of your words, the agreement of your thoughts, dressing in your gawky style.
Looking up to you in mind and height. My idea of happiness, for you brought me
this.
Skipping
on the chalk lines, calling out the purple numbers drawn in curls of magic. Our
feet crossing, uncrossing, jumping, stasis. Giggles. And buttercups. Those
curved buckets of lemon lips and we did kiss them, but only when the daisies
couldn’t see. Our first four-leaved clover, seemingly left by the whitest,
brightest unicorn in the land.
Only
from the other; the other world. The lies of our dreams. Fantasies worn too
tightly, falling loose as we found ourselves in our growing pains. A curtsey to
the future while we ran wild, chasing time itself, even as we sensed the
curtain must fall one day, when the roses would cease to flood our stage with
the perfume of delight.
When
once upon a time faded, decay stole into this place, clouding everything in its
breath. Including you, my beloved sister, wrenched from my arms before your
time. I paint you here with daisies playing in your auburn hair, your elfin eyes
creasing at the edges and your lips turned up in a perfect bow. Love racing
through its colours.
copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 24, 2015
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