Monday, 3 July 2017

flight of questions.




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 ear aches for an 

answer.


 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 

answer. 


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