While organizing paperwork today, I stumbled upon this slightly worn piece of paper with tattered edges, creases and folds -
something that I wrote back in June, 2005, titled, "Observations on a Summer Day".
It was a nice diversion from my paperwork, and now I will share them with you -
two short stories.
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She approached cautiously, as he worked.
His head, bent downward.
He looked up long enough to notice . . . the girl in the car.
He was not like the others.
There was a sweet shyness in his eyes.
For a moment, their eyes met through the glass covered windshield.
He quickly looked away - embarrassed.
He seemed to be hiding something.
Was he running away from something?
Or, maybe he was running towards something.
She wondered.
She slowly passed by, and he looked up at her again.
He caught a smile upon her face, and wished that he hadn't.
False hopes.
Something else that he could not have.
He could see her with his eyes, yet she was a distant, blurred vision.
"One day at a time," he told himself. "One day at a time."
As she looked in her rear-view mirror, he placed the trashcan back on the curb.
My heart beats suddenly loud and fast, as I see her dash before me.
The sight, at first - startling.
Then, the beauty. Then . . . . . . the beauty.
She is gone in a quick, red flash, yet the moment hangs on.
Her size, her color, the look upon her face -
mischievous, determined, . . . . . . content.
The sun shines brightly down upon her, capturing her spirit.
One look in my direction - nature, wild and free . . .
and then, she is gone.
something that I wrote back in June, 2005, titled, "Observations on a Summer Day".
It was a nice diversion from my paperwork, and now I will share them with you -
two short stories.
--------------------------------------------------
"The Trash Man"
She approached cautiously, as he worked.
His head, bent downward.
He looked up long enough to notice . . . the girl in the car.
He was not like the others.
There was a sweet shyness in his eyes.
For a moment, their eyes met through the glass covered windshield.
He quickly looked away - embarrassed.
He seemed to be hiding something.
Was he running away from something?
Or, maybe he was running towards something.
She wondered.
She slowly passed by, and he looked up at her again.
He caught a smile upon her face, and wished that he hadn't.
False hopes.
Something else that he could not have.
He could see her with his eyes, yet she was a distant, blurred vision.
"One day at a time," he told himself. "One day at a time."
As she looked in her rear-view mirror, he placed the trashcan back on the curb.
"The Fox"
My heart beats suddenly loud and fast, as I see her dash before me.
The sight, at first - startling.
Then, the beauty. Then . . . . . . the beauty.
She is gone in a quick, red flash, yet the moment hangs on.
Her size, her color, the look upon her face -
mischievous, determined, . . . . . . content.
The sun shines brightly down upon her, capturing her spirit.
One look in my direction - nature, wild and free . . .
and then, she is gone.
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