Tuesday

Her Back Against The Wall

She swung open the heavy glass door of her basement flat, releasing the soaring guitar sounds out of that shady indoor cave. Artfully bent notes joined with the birdsong, a symphony drifting up into the endless cobalt blue of the sky, spiralling up into the sunshine. The concrete steps that led up to that world of light, were littered with fallen seeds, hopes dashed on this sparkling ascent. She climbed slowly, counting the steps as she always did. Setting herself down on the hard ground, she felt her back against the wall. Lost in reverie, the sun on her upturned face, she breathes deeply as she watches the surreal kinetic sculptures of her white sheets drying in the wind.

6 comments:

L'Aussie said...

'Artfully bent notes joined with the birdsong', 'surreal kinetic sculptures of her white sheets drying in the wind.' Your descriptions soar. Thanks for sharing this beautiful prose...:)

Singer said...

hi L'Aussie and thanks so much for your comment, the feedback is really appreciated. :)

Selma said...

The image of the white sheets got to me too. I have often thought that there was an artistic component to them when they are drying in the wind. So good and so terribly well described!

Singer said...

thanks Selma, it is really nice to get feedback and it means a lot coming from someone who writes as well as you. ;)

Angela Artemis said...

Hi Singer,
Thank you for your comments on my blog. I thought I'd stop in for a visit at yours.

You have a rich and artful way of weaving your words. Very beautiful and poetic.

I look forward to reading more.

Sincerely,
Angela

Singer said...

Thank you Angela for your kind words, your comment is appreciated. :)