Here is another tale in the oh-so-ironic “How To” series for Friday Fictioneers. This one is in the form of a prose poem.
The photo prompt this week is courtesy of Emmy L. Gant. It reminds me of an old building or row house, and it put me in mind of my own 100 year old house. Sadly, the condition of my house seems to mirror my own rapidly aging bones–or is it vice versa?
Friday Fictioneers is a lively and friendly international writing community. Between Wednesday and Friday of every week, we each post a 100-word story to share. To learn more about Friday Fictioneers, or to post your own story, please visit our lovely leader’s website, author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Addicted to Purple.
How to Grow Old Gracefully
by Jan Brown
This house has no more dreams. There are only distant hopes, painful yearnings and blood-chilled fear.
…the fear of growing old.
The piano plays no complete songs. It is dusty, like my vocal cords. Two shallow breaths, a hoarse wheeze, to sing half a measure.
…the silence of my voice.
There are fragments of poetry in the corners. I pull them out with cobwebs. Piece them together clumsily.
…the frailty of my muse.
Etchings line the walls, crucified on wires and nails. My soul is searing in artists’ shades of molten gold and cutting crimson.
…the color of my pain.
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