Chefchaoen, a photo by Filha do Vento on Flickr.
The House of the Siren
in the house of the siren,
fresh flowers bloom in the window sill,
a cat hurtles at a ball of yarn,
and flecks of light shine through the fading curtain.
She tosses and turns in a fitful sleep
dreaming of herself on the side of a crater
reaching for a limb of a tree that is a bit out of reach.
Clearing her throat before she screams,
wishing to be the eagle that flew by her just moments ago.
Suddenly, the sound of a man unhitching his horse to his carriage
wakes her from her dreadful dream.
She flosses, brushes her hair, changes her clothes,
opens the door before he is able to ring her doorbell.
Without a moment's hesitation, she embraces her husband
and whispers how grateful she is that he is finally home from battle
as their cat watches from the doorway.
Story submitted in response to the poetry prompts of :
hitch- Sunday scribblings,
crater- one single impression
and the Sunday Whirl-
also sumitted to Poets United
In other news, am home from the beach now so I will be posting on my blog daily again.