I clutch the handrails of my balcony, My palm feels cold . The air is ready to drape a
pashmina shawl.Involuntarily my palm encircles the body of the porcelain mug warming
the stiff fingers.The coffee caresses my tongue to slide down my throat . The warmth
rises soothing my senses. My attention is drawn to the cobbled path below.
An automatic wheelchair slowly makes its way to the bakery. A lady 's stilettos hit the
hard ground her hands pushing the pram with the cherubic infant sleeping blissfully.
This is the irony of life, I concluded. A pram and a wheel-chair signifying the beginning
and near-end of life. Has anyone understood the intricacies of life? My hear aches for an
My gaze wanders up.The blue and golden colors intermingle spreading a serene aura in
the sky. Is it the beginning of the day or the end of night? My mind searches for an
The winged couple tangos in the air hovering close to the metal antenna. Are they on the
same wavelength? I have no answer.
My feet turn inside the studio apartment.
Written for Sue Vincent's Thursday Photo Prompt