It’s late summer and I
Sit on my stoop watching as
In the lane an old man weaves
Tales of magic from side to side
Or maybe he is just walking
Magic is strange that way
What to me is weaving tales
To you is an old man’s pride
Whimsy, I cry spellbound
Foolish you repeat shaking
Your head in disapproval
Play with me I beg
Not today – too busy you say
So I sit on the stoop
And listen for the whistling
Announcing magical lore
As the old man slowly
Makes his way toward
Me
Waiting
Watching
Whistling along
———————–
written for Velvet Verbosity’s 100 Word Challenge: WHISTLING
Daily Archives: July 14, 2014
July 14th, 2014 / Categories: Moose Nuggets /
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