Written to: Fireblossom Friday writing challenge "The Distorted Lens"
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Today started crispy cold, but nice, as
weather warnings came on the car speakers.
The grit truck missed a patch of black ice and
slowly my world turned topsy turvey. You
stole my ride with your phosphorescent eyes
in the bright velvet darkness of night, and
I saw my life dance to the ice maidens
tune waved along with her slim finger tips.
A scribe in a white coat spoke in strange tongues,
as a quill wrote in transparent black ink
filling an empty scroll full of weird scribbles.
And all the while the Tappers kept tapping
tappity tap, tappity tap, all night
long under a meridian green moon.
I looked through your hot phosphorescent eyes
when something cold burned against my chest.
Stone by stone up went a charred wall to the
monotonous rhythm of, beep, beep, beep.
At the topping out ball the Tappers skipped
to the frantic swish of the reapers scythe.
But from golden fields with ears of rye corn
came a warm whisper, hang in there my love.
Through snow winters blue and red summer nights
I fought with an electrical maelstrom.
The reaper was grim and seemed to weaken
as the scribes apprentice knocked down the wall.
And there was the green moon on a white screen
as my lightning bolt swords flashed up his scythe.
And soldiers clad in green gathered around
and cheered me on in victorious song.
Now golden fields smelled fresh and soft as silk
as they brushed across my tormented face.
Julian Clarke © Sept' 2017
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