Walking towards the glowing archway
My sister said Phlegethon,
Watch out for fairies
She loved to throw out big words
It’s Sunday, mum thinks we are in church
I kick a tin can, bored
I wanted to smuggle my bike from the shed
Mum was watching from the kitchen window
I swear she is psychic
She knows how to dig things from my mind
I crack my knuckles
I yell to my sister not to step
into the triangle of flowers
Too late, I felt time flip. She was gone
I heard the whisper of her voice
Telling me it’s all right
The mellifluous voice
that followed her message
Sounded sickly sweet,
too smooth for my liking
What the hell am I to tell mum
Or does she know all ready?
© Anita Dawes 2021
Leave a Reply