The beat was off.
The buildings blocking sky.
Bright lights hide the stars.
The image blurs my eyes.
for my ancestors,
Gone the sloping hills that met the rolling sea.
The deer no longer lapping at the water’s edge,
the children no longer swinging from trees
with eyes glittering in the sun
now the city loomed
dark, dismal, blurry in my eyes.
The vision of the past extinguished
as the traffic light changed
the beat of the city sounds
out of rhythm with the earth.
wc: 95 Title included.
This work of fiction is written for Friday Fictioneer ‘s 100 word writing challenge hosted weekly by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-fields. Come on out and join us at: Friday Fictioneer ‘s if you’re up to a good challenge, or even a really great read. These little stories are well worth your time! A Huge thank you goes to Jill Wisoff for this week’s photo prompt.We’d love to see you around the table.