Showing posts with label Magpie Tales. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Magpie Tales. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Magpie 54

Photograph © Tess Kincaid
Photo prompt for Magpie Tales #54

* * *

PIECES

If there was a specific day
that I started to fall apart,
I can't recall it.

Mirrors now reflect
only worn and faded pieces
of the youth I remember.


* * *

Monday, February 14, 2011

Magpie #53

Photograph © Tess Kincaid
Posted by Picasa

The image above was offered as a writing prompt by Magpie Tales.
Click on the link to see others' contributions.

* * *
MEMORIES OF A SALT CELLAR

We were a beautiful pair, Pepper and I. 
I still recall the day that Lucy, at her bridal shower,
 tore the wrappings from our box.
How we sparkled when she held us to the sunlight. 
 "Oh! Joe and I will love and care for these forever," she said.

The glass-front china cabinet in the dining room, 
second shelf, up front, under a light, was where she kept us
except on Sundays, or when company came for dinner.
On those occasions, she would  put us on the table
for her guests to admire.

"Are these Waterford? Beautiful.
 I love how they catch the light."

Then the children began to sit at table,
and we learned to dread Sunday dinners.
Knocks and spills became the order of the day.
I can't begin to count the number of times
we left trails on the linen cloth,
or were unceremoniously tossed across the table
to small, impatient, waiting hands.

All Joe said was "Boys will be boys!"
Lucy sighed.

She finally stopped urging them to be careful with us
until one sad day, my partner's shattered remains lay on the floor,
a casualty of an all too hasty "pass the pepper."

I now sit on the top shelf of the china cabinet,
pushed to the back, out of sight.
Alone, and in the dark.

* * *

Monday, February 7, 2011

Magpie Tales - #52

Photograph © Tess Kincaid
The image above was offered as a writing prompt by Magpie Tales
which is observing its first blogaversary.  Click on the link to see others' contributions.

* * *
RECLUSE

After dark last night, while the snow was still falling,
I swept the walk and covered it with salt.
I don't want those nosy Parkers who live next door
banging on my door and
threatening to call City Hall
because it's dangerous.  Sissies!

I should have left the walk alone.
It would have been fun
to peek through the curtains
and watch'em fall on their backsides.

The steps?  

 I'm not going any where.
Let the snow cover'em;
the deeper, the better.

Icy steps discourage visitors.

* * *