Pillars #writephoto

Pillars

pillars

 

Voices resonate here, voices from the present, but also voices from the past, maybe from a long gone past. Those who erected these pillars knew how to build, to last. Their footsteps, perhaps even the sound of their tools, chiselling the stone, can still be heard.

A little further, the sun shines in the courtyard. Did they hold councils here, did the walls hear judgements, or laughter, or even the sound of water rising? Where did they go? Did they leave their work behind, did they travel far, did they leave our world? Were they time-travellers?

Splash #writephoto

Splash

splash

 

We loved the sound of the big stone falling into the clear water, we loved the endless ripples, afterwards, in the little pool. The light reflected on the sharp green ferns, the fresh grass, as the whole nature spelt: Spring!

We were young, we got wet, we looked at our reflections, as if our future would suddenly appear, as the water surface went back to a calm mirror.

Sometime we saw shadows, behind our smiling faces, as if ghosts awaken by the splash had come up to check who dared disturb the peace…

The moon admires reflections in bedraggled streets…

Marousia

dust moats
fandango
in my reading light

_________

Night whispers love
across the sky
morning blushes

_________

I stretch
the old book spine
cracks in half

_________

Wind chimes stir
birds startle
moon mirrors silent

_________

Sun sets
behind the ocean
a wet peach

_________

occluded moonlight
caught in a stone
framed in silver

_________

no silver coins in ponds
the wind billows
her kimono

_________

Blue stone cobbles
singular footfalls
detection afoot

_________

The moon admires
reflections
in bedraggled streets
_________

For

OpenLinkNight ~ Week 45

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