You were our blessing, given when the first leaves changed colour. Autumn, such an appropriate name. As the last leaves fell, and before we could know you, you were snatched away. A single copper leaf held fast, the colour of your hair. Tenderly we took it, pressing it for eternity.
Writer of anything and everything. Microfiction, flash fiction and poetry are favourites. A desire to see her words published is increasing with age! See more at christinenedahl.wordpress.com.
Strawberries and wine, long nights on the porch, all-consuming, never-ending love. But the Universe changes in a heartbeat, our cabin, my heart, left to the ravages of time. Taxi drop at the end of the lane, an overgrown path, cheerless door, descending chill, ice cold hands pull my collar tight.
Chris Nedahl is a writer of anything and everything. Micro fiction, flash fiction and poetry are favourites. The desire to see her words published is increasing with age!
Cock-crow ’til owl-hoot I toil. Feeding the hens, slopping the pigs, animal-speak my only communication. Long ago I stopped using words with Josiah, morose and silent man. Holding warm udders, I rhythmically pull. Brown eyes thank me. You’re welcome, I whisper back. My only happiness is this, speaking in tongues.
Originally from the Rhondda Valley, South Wales, Chris has lived for fifteen years in the Almanzora Valley, Almeria. She writes about anything and everything. Micro fiction, flash fiction, and poetry are currently favourites. Published internationally in anthologies, print, and online, she is compiling a book of her poetry and believes there has to be a courageous publisher out there!