Lit & The Arts [Prose] Hayseed Town, USA

Discussion in 'Literature & The Arts' started by DarkFlame, Jan 19, 2005.

  1. DarkFlame

    DarkFlame New Member

    Hayseed Town, USA

    I rustle the yellow newspaper, looking over outdated events. I crack a smile. "Clinton elected". The black coffee stains my once white teeth. I'm not a morning person, not at all. Purple lilacs cascade over a blue jug. Like a solder, it stands tall and proud; guarding the fruit bowl. I lean back, my feet propped up, lazy, on the old hewn table. An antique runner rolls over the middle. Setting my yellow friend down, I pull at my tank top, the white fabric clings to my back. It’s hot today. My hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and it flicks like a cats tail, as the iron and wood fan overhead whirls about. The screen door bangs closed. I look up, and see you. Standing there, in your fancy cloths, you just got back from your business trip. You smile and open the front door, heading up to our room at the top of the stairs, first door to the right. You’ll strip down, and get back in your country boy's cloths. Come downstairs, and we'll talk, talk 'till we can’t talk no more. Then, when the fireflies come out we'll dance under the moon, to the rhythm of a violin. We’ll dance country style, just like good-old times. And after that we’ll both tuck ourselves to sleep under the hemlock, and whisper stories of when we were kid, and everything was a bit clearer.


    Is it okay? Be honest... :lol:

    _df