There is a rumour going around as rumours do in this community. It is said that a celebration is being planned by humans. Specifically by those humans who feed and pet us. It is being said that we will be invited to join them, that we will be a part, an important part of the celebration. So now we are waiting wondering what role we shall play, wondering if we will get drunk, wondering if we will enjoy it all as much as our humans will enjoy our presence.
–––––––––– “I write to let the words escape.” – the poet
Pushing pins into vintage fabric you remember before, and hear her laughter echo down the stairs. You sew a tiny dress of floral cotton, pink peonies and yellow daisies. A request, “Please Mummy Delilah needs something pretty for my party.” So you thread a needle and stitch, Misty-eyed at memories of mud pies and makeup. You lift the finished piece and hope they’ll love it. “Ellie honey,” you call, “I have Delilah’s dress.” You follow the giggles upstairs and open the door to a room, where dust motes float, refusing to settle on an empty bed, still waiting for her.
–––––––––– “I write to entertain and to see the thoughts running through my head take shape on paper. I love the thought of others reading my words, interpreting them differently, reading a myriad of meanings into the letters I’ve placed on the page.” – the poet
Young, spry, happy, A miracle of life is born. Unbeknownst to the harshness of the world, Ignorant to the cruel and vicious.
Rebellious, immature, stressed, Welcome to the precursor of adulthood. Troubled by their looks, Fixated on the materialistic, instead of idyllic.
Tired, worn, drained, The corporate rat race is on. Tormented by the thought of dismissal, Enticed by the green paper.
Aged, seasoned, wise. Congrats, the chase is over and you’re a veteran at life. Cared for and loved by the next generation, Unaware that the hunter has become the hunted.
Things have changed, haven’t they?
–––––––––– “I write as a way to de-stress from all the chaos and melancholy of life. As a student with a love for the arts, writing is one of the few things that still brings a smile to my face.” – the writer
The girls and I have a system They are the beauty I am the brawn But we are all the brains We don’t go against anything or anyone who gets hurt And we don’t do it to anyone who doesn’t deserve it We aren’t vigilantes We aren’t modern-day Robin Hoods Because we don’t kill And we don’t share our wealth But we do take their money And we do hurt them in the place that has the most impact Their wallets We match We chat They book the hotel I show up We collect And we eat the rich Together
––––––––––– Jeff Hill writes stories and helps others write their stories.