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wordsontongue2010-07-31 03:29 pm
vbmods.livejournal.com) wrote in wordsontongue2010-07-31 03:29 pm
Memento
Title: Memento
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
j_flattermann
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Prompt(s): #6: loquacious, switchgrass molding into human shapes and a photograph of a Newton's Cradle
Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. No copyright infringement intended.
Standing at the panoramic windows in the living room, staring out into the garden.
How long since I have dropped you off at the airport and we waved our 'good-byes'?
The house has fallen silent since and suddenly the silence hurts, cuts like a knife.
Suddenly the bushes all bear your face and the switchgrass is moulding into human shapes.
Your shape, your face in the garden – the only thing missing is your voice.
I can't believe, that only a few hours ago your chitter-chatter was getting on my nerves.
Now I can't bear the silence.
Walking over to the writing desk, sitting in front of the Newton's Cradle.
Hoping the clicking of the balls distracts me. I miss you, already.
Nothing compares to you being near to me. I get up and walk over to the phone and dial.
The phone at the other end rings and then the answer machine
"Hello, sorry I am not at home, for I have so many things to do, but if you please leave a message
and I will call you back in due time, promised as soon as possible, when I'm back home."
There it is, your loquacious self, and it feels as if I can touch you.
Author:
j_flattermannRating: G
Warnings: None
Prompt(s): #6: loquacious, switchgrass molding into human shapes and a photograph of a Newton's Cradle
Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. No copyright infringement intended.
Standing at the panoramic windows in the living room, staring out into the garden.
How long since I have dropped you off at the airport and we waved our 'good-byes'?
The house has fallen silent since and suddenly the silence hurts, cuts like a knife.
Suddenly the bushes all bear your face and the switchgrass is moulding into human shapes.
Your shape, your face in the garden – the only thing missing is your voice.
I can't believe, that only a few hours ago your chitter-chatter was getting on my nerves.
Now I can't bear the silence.
Walking over to the writing desk, sitting in front of the Newton's Cradle.
Hoping the clicking of the balls distracts me. I miss you, already.
Nothing compares to you being near to me. I get up and walk over to the phone and dial.
The phone at the other end rings and then the answer machine
"Hello, sorry I am not at home, for I have so many things to do, but if you please leave a message
and I will call you back in due time, promised as soon as possible, when I'm back home."
There it is, your loquacious self, and it feels as if I can touch you.