pocket: a 100-word story

_{after Kimberly Blaeser’s When We Sing of Might}

at 3pm, the sun wears my 20’s feet. unsure how bright to glow yet certain that the west exist to swallow it like a sea’s wide mouth.

i am almost 30. as i blow more candles, i find myself ageing like my mother and the mothers before her. the mirror often shows I dress in their stories patterned and purple as night.

Maya Angelou once said “i come as one but stand as 10,000”.

I am on my own, in a foreign land with a pocket filled with my mother’s prayers – thousands of suns unyielding to gravity, above, over me.

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12.07.2021
©2021 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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For dVerse: dVerse — Prosery Monday — Lost/Found/Lost Children