She misses the morning mist;
the deep, shadowed vista of valleys
across her face like curtains
her papa at the helm of ‘Atlanta’.
passing plagues of flies
at the bridge where fishermen cleaned their catches
Each day like a page and once turned
no chance of ever re-tracing.
For Russell Sivey’s 5 minute Challenge
Used the wordlist as a trigger and wrote for 5 mins.
Mist, helm, part, page, plaque, hair, traces, bridge, curtain, vista