mortelover

Standing in the rain.
Shoulders hunched, head hung low.
Waiting
Waiting.
Glimpse of a red jacket,
Is it her?
Run
Run
To see her.
So the bull passed his days.
#130story

Woolacombe Bay
Embraced by the rocky arms of
Morte and Baggy Points.
Shifting sands for miles
Ebb and flow.
Rips to dare and scare
With spray
Spindrifting away.
#130story

I’m writing to you from my apartment
Carefully formed words on clean white parchment
Trying to tell exactly what my heart meant
Attempting to ease this mental torment.
#130story

‘A commemorative 50p piece?’ she exclaimed ‘I wonder what will be on it?’. One suggestion was 45p, as that’s what it will be worth by summer 2019. #130story

Mermaid

I saw her
Gleefully riding the waves
Turquoise hair whipped by the whirling wind
Silvery body shining and sinuous Laughing delightedly
And luring young men to their doom. #130story

In the half light of
early morning leaden skies,
footsteps echo down the stairs as
grey sighs rise in the gloom,
concrete walls absorb the sadness
of commuters;
prisoners of work.
#130story

It was estimated that 700,000 people marched peacefully in London on Saturday to show their concern about Brexit and how it is being handled. No trouble. No arrests. #130story

After a tree fell on Paul the plumber’s storage unit, he moved his kit and supplies into Fred the farmer’s barn.
‘Get your tanks off my corn’ said Fred. #130story