The exercise:
Write something that has to do with: silk.
Because apparently that's one of the traditional fourth wedding anniversary gifts. There's some interesting items on that list... particularly for the nineteenth.
The leeks and onions have been weeded once again, and likely for the last time this season. Carrots and beets are pretty much clear as well, and I got a start on the squash plants. Things are feeling... relatively under control out there.
Had a very nice family dinner up at Kat's parents place this evening. Once Max got used to Kat's aunt being around he was his usual charming self.
Farmers market harvest tomorrow as we head into the long weekend.
Mine:
Soft to the touch
As it glides across
Exposed skin;
Slowly, gently,
Whispers of
Promised sin.
Music serenades,
Lit by candles,
Scented with roses:
The perfect setting
To do whatever
He proposes.
3 comments:
Hah! That 90th wedding anniversary gift of Stone... that's got to be a headstone given that neither of the couple can be much longer for the world! How the US got llamas is beyond me (but then so is Bismuth and a lot of the rest of that list. The UK one kind of makes sense in a "what would people need at this point of their marriage?" way).
Sounds like a productive day and a nice evening too. I hope it sets a trend for your wedding anniversaries!
I like your poem, it's soft and gentle and persuasive, but I'll admit I was definitely hoping that the last line was going to be "She proposes" :)
Silk
"Are you sure this is right?" James McIntosh lifted an edge of the bundle of clothing with a thick finger. He'd been heading up this particular security detail for the last eighteen months and had learned to take nothing at face value and nothing unless it was signed for.
"Absolutely. You countersigned the list," said Lucille, the agent delivering the clothing.
"Let me see?" Lucille fumbled in her pockets for the docket and James suppressed a sigh. He'd bring it up in their next one-to-one session as an example of unpreparedness and then show her the section the departmental graveyeard where they buried unprepared agents. Finally she produced a pink flimsy and presented it triumphantly.
"Not my signature," said James at the first glance. "You didn't check this on DIGEST. And this isn't Admiral Tonkins' signature either. And... and the last three lines on here have been added later in a different hand and a different pen!" Lucille said nothing. "You could have picked up all of this yourself," he finished, "if you'd even bothered to wonder why the President would request silk panties in the colours of the Nigerian flag!"
The bed made with his finest Egyptian Cotton. A whole helluva high thread count. Now unmade and changed to rubber sheets. Maybe it would be that kinda night. Harry reconsidered. Made it again, with silk sheets.
Yasmina would arrive soon. Dinner was on the table. KFC buckets hidden in the trash. A bottle of….what the hell is this? Dr. Goodtimes Funshine Elixir. Must be French.
Harry sweated through his shirt. The second one in the past twenty minutes. Thoughts of Yasmina’s supple thighs mixed with his constricting velour made for trouble. He changed to a black t-shirt. A slimming one. The girl at Marshall’s assured him.
Mood music. Harry’s ipod had been stolen. He knew who did it. Tracked them down. Beat them. They confessed, but no longer had it. Scratch the music. Harry hoped Yasmina liked conversation.
The doorbell rang.
Harry farted.
A few too many times.
He opened the door.
Found his angel.
Greg - I was... surprised to see that the list went on that long. But stone does seem appropriate, doesn't it?
I considered going with 'she' in my last line, actually. Ended up deciding against it, but I'm happy that it occurred to you as well!
Hah, that is definitely an order I'd wonder about. Not sure that I'd dare to question it openly though!
David - love the progression of this one. Really great character voice, with some excellent details sprinkled throughout.
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