
The rain little more than a dull
trickling, I huddle. I peer over
the curb’s edge.
The puddle of dreams, my mirror
of desire. My fairytale reflection.
I gasp.
I am not there. I am invisible. I
am little more than a shadow. A
ghost.
A rained on ghost.
© Catt Turner 2010
dettythecatt.blogspot.com
Inspiration hits at all sorts of strange moments. I can be cooking, cleaning, reading, working, when bang! It’s there and it won’t go away until I stop what I am doing and use it. With this, I was reading poetry when suddenly the idea of being invisible, or not having a reflection hit, and this is what appeared on the page.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Author: moondustwriter
Thank you for visiting Moondustwriter. One of the many exciting things I've had the honor of doing is writing and publishing in multiple genres (including education) in E. African for E. Africa. As a writer, it is a thrill to write for children (on all continents) who want to learn.
I've been part of the blogging community for more than 13 years. Some old timers may remember the award winning (2011 Twitter Shorty ) blog community - One Stop Poetry. I was the co-producer of that fast growing blog community.
I am a published writer, poet, artist and photographer. I have written, as well as edited, for periodicals, radio, blogs and fellow writers.
There are many facets to this moon - my joy is in meeting you!
View all posts by moondustwriter
very well written cat, high in imagery, great rhythm prose, thanks for sharing leslie, another winner xx
LikeLike
she does a nice job thanks for reading
LikeLike
Well written. It carries an ethereal quality about it, which is only appropriate for one invisible. To simply disappear…strange thought, beneath a gathering storm.
LikeLike
hmmm…i wonder if you actually got wet…that may not be so bad as we just got crushed with rain and i am sopping wet…
LikeLike
Thanks for the comments. 😀 Interesting point about if one actually got wet.
LikeLike
Lovely!
LikeLike