My Gentleman and the Stone…

 

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My daughter was weeding her front garden the other day. I was watching and speaking with her when one of our neighbours came along.  I was used to seeing him on his bike, but he was now in a wheelchair.

He stopped to ask if he could have a few pieces of the slate from my front garden, as he liked to paint stones and couldn’t get to the beach anymore.

I was happy to give him as many pieces as he wanted, but before I could bend down to get a few, he asked my name, putting out his hand to shake mine.

Instead of shaking it, he kissed the back of my hand like an olden day gentleman, making me feel like a lady. I could almost feel the crinoline brushing against my legs. He said he would leave a painted piece in my garden when he could.

Two days later, I watched as he tried to maneuver his wheelchair up the small step to my path. Abandoning his efforts, he managed to walk to my front garden.

By now I was on my feet, crossing the room. From my window, I could see a beautifully painted stone lying on the ground. By the time I reached my front door, he had made it back to his wheelchair. Picking up the beautifully painted stone with a lump in my throat, I thanked him and blew him a kiss. He told me that the paint didn’t go well on the slate and had used a stone instead.

I felt overwhelmed by this gift, so much so that I sat on the couch crying my heart out and couldn’t say why.

Jaye said it because it was a wonderful gift, from a wonderful gentleman whose name is Peter…

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#Wordle 382 #Poetry

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  Prince Charming

I am always looking for that lucky charm

That hits you like a lover’s kiss

Blue lightning that fills the air with magic.

That special touch that lets you know

 That everything is all right.

Life will not spin out of control

Let the wind howl, I have a

Hundred reasons to be happy.

Learn to play, something I miss.

Take a train, find a new adventure

Make a plan for my future

Wind in my neck, stop looking at the dark side of life

Forget that one who left me on Christmas Eve

Find a new lovers kiss

Maybe this time I will find Prince Charming…

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TABLOID INTRUSION

Iain Kelly

Well, it didn’t look much – a cuddly toy, a small chocolate each, a few sweets. It would have to do. He hoped they would understand.

He collected them all and put them in the Santa sack.

He left the newspaper lying open on the bed. His own face stared up at him from the page, caught in the glare of the flashbulb. They always managed to find him, to hound him. This time he thought he’d shaken them for good.

He left the sack under the tree for them to find in the morning.

He looked upstairs one last time as he opened the front door and then he was gone.

Before dawn, two excited children hurtled down the stairs.

They found their Mum sitting by the tree, a crunched up newspaper in her hands, her eyes wet with tears.

She hugged them and wished them a Merry Christmas.

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Wordle #214

pensitivity101

Over to Sarah this week for our 12 words to ponder.
https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/2103844564

Brood, moody, hex, sober, salubrious *, ransom, counterintuitive, calculate, misnomer, train,  fortunate, appease.

* salubrious (adj.) health-giving; healthy

She was convinced someone had put the hex on her since dumping her calculating  moody boyfriend who had used her for a roof over his head and money in his pocket. He was never sober yet everyone was under the misnomer he was such a nice guy so now her emotions were being held to ransom by some counterintuitive force.
She brooded over how to appease her mother who absolutely adored him, knowing her reception would be far from salubrious.
Oh well, Perhaps it was fortunate that she’d missed her train.

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Halcyon ~ #poetry #RDP

Night Owl Poetry - Dorinda Duclos


She makes her nest upon the water

When winter solstice comes to call

Calms the ocean, silences the wind

Ever elusive, this halcyon, so small

She sleeps among the rippling waves

Then flies away, we know not when

And so we wait until the time is right

For this wondrous bird, to return again

Ragtag Daily Prompt – Halcyon

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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If You Want to be Heard

Cage Dunn: Writer, Author, Teller-of-tall-tales

You have to speak. No one can hear you if you don’t or won’t say the words, do the thing, make your presence felt.

I follow a lot of blogs because I find what they have to say is interesting. And, being a compulsive creature of a clean nature (that’s bs, by the way), I check up on them even if I don’t see a post for a while.

Gone. Disappeared into the ether. More silent than night.

Why? Was it so hard to say your piece?

After a few moments (and doing other things, when it frees the mind to do such fossicking), I discovered a pattern.

People let it all out. Once. Sometimes twice. And that’s all there is, all she wrote, all that’s necessary.

It’s not.

One post the other day talked about where the bullying mind-set came from, why people do it (can’t find it now…

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