Red Dreams

Red Dreams

Awoke from a dream
where death had taken her,
penning verse in her head.

They’d met on the bank
as the sun kissed the water
he’d given her a cross
fashioned from lead.

Do you still write for her
on the shore
across the lake,
scrawling lines
on the make?

Her heart
remains
yours to take.

Red lips

Sad eyes

Goodbyes

Oceanside stroll,
a poet’s melancholy gray
is why she chose
to pen prose today.

A short tale
keeping demons at bay.

She failed miserably,
I’d say.

© Grace Black

Fiction written for Picture it & Write now off you go … and write.