It's Still Life

Of Its Passing

Her voice holds the centuries,
and yet she is a young one.

She passes through the turn of a wheel,
its eternal time hung on a thorn –

the mist pulling up behind her
as time leaves her to air and dry.

This young one builds stone bridges
but still wades through the water.

“Did you know,” she says, “you mustn’t bring snowdrops into the house – you’ll bring death indoors. That’s what the Victorians thought, but the Anglo-Saxons thought snowdrops represented rebirth because they’re white, so they planted the bulbs in graveyards … silly Victorians and their daft ideas about death.”

And still, earth’s clumsy rocks and clay
couldn’t break her silk and pearl and ivory.

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Mixed poetry and prose written for Denise’s Six Sentence Stories This week’s word is “pass”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.