by Ray Nessly
Young boy skips flat stone
Black Labrador, retrieving:
leaps, sinks, drowns, & rots
THE MILKMAN RINGS NO MORE
Our milkman's now dust,
as are one thousand bottles
and one long-gone porch
Our milkman, his bottles, our porch: all gone to dust under sour sky
9
favs |
1395 views
13 comments |
56 words
All rights reserved. |
Published February 2016, Literary Orphans.
This story has no tags.
under sour sky. ***
ON NO LONGER GOLDEN POND, Yikes!
Enjoyed. With a little sorrow.
Thank you Rachna, Kitty, Gary.
Reality can nip and leave a bruise. Nicely done.
*, Ray. It's the imagery that got me. Fine work.
Yes,reality's a bitch, innit? Thanks for reading and commenting, Mathew and David.
Good. Especially like Milkman.
Both hit nail on head.*
Sam and Tim, thank you so much.
Quirky and fresh in a slightly perverse way. I like that. Works to the tune of Moonlight in Vermont which I recently learned is haiku. *
A fav for the first.
Thank you, Samuel, and thank you Dianne. I didn't know that about Moonlight In Vermont-- fascinating!
I encourage all to check out strannikov's amazing haikus: http://fictionaut.com/users/strannikov