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Post 1461. Saturday February 25

Sunday's Whirligig

I ambled across the moonlit hillock, a book of verse clutched in my hand.

         Above, the man in the moon bathed in a sea of alabaster clouds.

Then I sat on a stile, alone, just my melancholic poems for company.

           The man in the moon stuffed another sugar coated star into his salivating mouth.

I clutched a silver locket in my palm, her locket.

          The man in the moon stroked his bloated belly.

I missed her so. Why oh why was she taken from me so cruelly.

         The man in the moon was feeling a little queasy.

My love, my reason for living, where are you now? I cried.

         The man in the moon kicked a passing golden angel aside as she fluttered ...........earthward.

For a moment, a short moment, I saw her looking down at me. Then she was gone. Again. Why?  

         The man I the moon leaned across his cumulus cushion and spewed violently in my ...........direction.

I wandered home and took a shower.

For Sunday's Whirligig where the 12 given words are -  ambled, alabaster, noon, bathed, bloated, bellies, moon, poems, lockets, leaned, kicked and stuffed

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