She looked through her cataract cloud. Her hair, like the bathroom mirror, had silvered. Her face showed cracks like the tile. Toothbrushes… two?
Nothing looked familiar. Not the photo of children that fluttered from her purse to the cold tile floor. Not the gray-haired man who carried her to bed.
Eileen McIntyre writes to the hum of hummingbird wings and listens to critique from crows in the woods of Northern California.
So Much There!
Thanks for taking the time to comment.
Relatable and evocative.
Thanks so much, John!
expression of real complex emotions that are timeless and symbolic of the human experience in a poetic tone