click on image to enlarge
Not yesterday I learned to know the love of bare November days. Before the coming of the snow, as young children, we had a ritual of building a fort, cropped field making it easy to get to the lotline of trees; a private world where we relived summer's glory, lamented homework, whispered crushs' names upon bales of straw hauled from the barn. Nature's golden chandeliers and carved pumpkins our decor. The summer before Mary went to University, we carved our initials into the smooth bark of the beech tree. Didn't know it would be the last time there together. We ran home with happy hearts and big dreams. Winter, as always, came, destroyed our sanctuary. Yet our joy of sledding, skating, building snowmen thrilled us. After the war took Billy, and Mary passed from cancer, I went back. Traced our names. Cried. Smiled. Remembered.
by Margaret Bednar, November 12, 2025
This is prompted by "dVerse Poets Pub - Prosery - My November Guest". We were given the poetic lines:
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow
We were to use this in our SHORT STORY of 144 Words. adding punctuation was ok - but we could not take it out of order.
The photo is one I have collected over the years - I LOVE writing to photos and art images.
1 comment:
I love the photo you chose from your collection to inspire your Prosery piece, Margaret, and the warm nostalgia for childhood, I enjoyed this poignant walk down memory lane.
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