Planet Earth ‘For Sale’ sign removed.
I feel it, like pre-consternation, like a special kind of pessimism, the reccurring theme that scripts my life. I think this and stare into the emptiness.
Why is there never milk left when it’s my turn?
The child appeared concerned.
“That sound, I’ve heard it before.”
“Oh, yes?” The father replied, an eyebrow raised.
It was early spring and the frogspawn was beginning to twitch as the watchful frogs continued to croak.
The child cocked her head to the left, an endearing trait perhaps inbuilt or just as likely, gleaned from the family cat.
“Maybe, there’s a frog in my butt.”
(conversation with my 3 year old daughter)
Original Twisting Tail Format
Monday: Flash Fiction
Wednesday: Free Verse Poetry
Thursday: Rhymed poetry
Sunday: Children’s Rhyme