A streetlamp guides me, a blurred pool of light. My spine curves to the handlebars.
Yesterday my conceit ruled, and I left. Afterwards, I wrote to her: bungled, confused words about freedom.
I must reach her before the letter.
The lamppost’s swan-neck is thinned by fog, delicate as a nerve.
Elizabeth Leyland writes short and long fiction and lives in the UK. She has been published by 50-Word Stories, Paragraph Planet, Fairfield Scribes and CafeLit.
Powerful atmospheric images envelop an urgent message.
Simply beautiful.
Thank you, Stephen and Carol. I’m very pleased you like it.
Beautiful
Thank you, Kate. Much appreciated.
Nah; give it up, Sister. The postman always gets there first.
Great 50, though. Thanks
:-) Thank you, Ron..
Delicate as a nerve. Simply wonderful!
Thank you, Julie. I’m pleased it resonated.