A passing stranger

The night is as still as the grave. Everything around glistens white with the harsh winter frost.


My white breath drifts skyward as a shimmering moon shoots shafts of silver light twixt the frozen trees and across a blanket of pure white snow.

So bright is the light that long black shadows stretch out from the hedgerows and wooden poles that line the narrow lane. My own walks alongside me.

I see the vague figure of a man coming towards me. He wears a hooded cloak and although he becomes clearer in the moonlight as he approaches, I am unable to make out his face. Just a hollow void.

As we pass I nod my head in greeting, but it’s as if he doesn’t see me. I look over my shoulder and notice he has no shadow, and leaves no footprints in the virgin snow.

Suddenly I am blasted with a rush of freezing wind that stings my face – then it is stops as suddenly as it started.

When I open my eyes he is gone.

The Seasons of her Life

This weeks prompt on Writers Island is This Season. I humbly offer you my contribution

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Eyes like saucers blink in the unaccustomed light.
One moment the warmth of the womb, the next a strange new place.
A child in the springtime of her life.
These first few years her mother feeds her, cleans and dresses her.
Holds her.
Always there for every need.

Soon she walks, she talks and plays.
School, and friends, and then,
independence calls and she breaks free.
A young lady who runs home with tear filled eyes
with every broken romance.
Once more a child.

Now’s the summer of her life.
She’s blossomed and bloomed and then it’s she
who brings into this world a child of her own.
She’s brimming with optimism, everything is possible.
She climbs life’s ladder, reaches for the stars.
The great entertainer, the belle of the ball
A partner that worships her every move.
But life’s not always sweet
These are the days of ups and downs.
Mostly sunshine but sometimes showers
Things sent to try her, but she never despairs.

Weary with work she looks forward to the future.
Family grown up and she’s preparing to swap
her days filled with work and toil and stress
for days of contentment and rest.
For now it’s the autumn of her life.
Mellow. A slower pace. Time to stop. Time to breath.
The children now have families of their own .
Granny they call her. She gently smiles
as the memory of life’s seasons past
waft over her

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Where did time go? It seems only yesterday that she was young.
Pictures from the past flood her mind
details intact.
She still hears the sounds of years ago, still senses, still feels.
But what passed seconds before she cannot recall.
Her partner has gone. Her family have lives of their own.
She feels alone. A shadow of her former self.

Weary eyes blink at bright sunlight through unfamiliar windows.
One minute the warmth of her home and now this strange new place.
A lonely confused soul in the winter of her life.
These last few years her daughter feeds her, cleans and dresses her.
Holds her.
Always there for every need.

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This piece and all of my poems are now on a dedicated site -No Rhyme Nor Reason

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The Stranger - Epilogue

The Stranger - complete story