Fields of vivid yellow; enthusiastic sunflowers tell me stories of love, life, and laughter as I lay amongst them.
Imposing, tall, stretching, kissing the sun.
I rearrange them in their vases. Together we look out the kitchen window, sighing.
They’re wilting now, but I count the days ’til next year.
Michael is currently writing bios for up-and-coming artists in the U.K.
I love “people-watching” on rainy afternoons.
Some of them walk with a run, their collars up, heads in shoulders, hands in pockets, then they scatter into doorways and bus shelters.
Some look up into the falling drops with outstretched hands.
Some open their umbrellas and just get on with life.
Over the last few years, Michael has completed a YA psychological thriller and a couple of children’s (animal and toy protagonists) chapter books. He is currently working on a 1930s-themed sci-fi. Michael is living with heart failure, but confesses: “I love writing!”
I open my eyes.
It’s still here. Thank you.
It was here yesterday, and the day before that. Uncertain how long it will be here for me, though. Nobody can tell me, because once I nearly saw the last of it. I nearly died.
I hope it’s here again tomorrow.
Michael has not been published by a major publishing house as yet, although he has written a handful of articles for local lifestyle magazines and one or two rural media reviews. He was a photographer (retired) by trade. Michael has been writing for many yearss. He is now living with hearing failure, but that doesn’t stop him from writing on a daily basis.