Simple Life

I dreamt I had a simple life
Sons and daughters all around
A porch, a pipe, a dog, a wife
And warm spring rains upon the ground
To put an end to winter's strife

Word & Question 9 (or Requiem for a Fantasy 2)

So here I am, the host and all, and I'm late. Sorry 'bout this. I hope the poem makes up for it (though I can't promise it will). On the bright side, this poem adds a little bit of hope to the story.

Word: flour
Question: How did you get so filthy dirty?

The Cabin in the Storm
Another log to feed the fire
Sparks burst out and fall in showers
Another meal of water and flour
Another night alone and tired

Outside the storm rages on
The wind howls about the shack
Searching every hole and crack
He longs for peace to come with dawn

A thud sounds through the night
Softly again, then all is still
He shivers against a creeping chill
They shouldn't be out, but they might

Knife in hand he moves to the door
Throws it open and steps aside
Then yelps and leaps back in fright
As a figure falls onto the floor

Covered in dirt and frozen blue
Hands bloody and battered
Clothes torn and hair matted
If she was alive, God only knew

He gathers her up in his arms
Laying her down by the flame
He does all he can to bring warmth
Back to this girl with no name

So he waits through the night
And prays for dawn to break
To drive off the storm, and see her awake
To bask in the clear morning light

Word and Question 9

Hello everyone and welcome to this month's Word & Question! If you need a refresher on how this works, check out Enbrethiliel's page on the subject. I start taking prompts now; get them to me by Friday and you'll have yours on Sunday.

In the mean time, take a look around if you haven't already. I've switched from short fiction to poetry lately, but I hope that my poetry still tells a story.

Happy reading.

Requiem for a Fantasy

Head down she trudges alone
Through sleet and wind, on ice encrusted paths
In the distance lights twinkle
Tempting her to think of home
A rest for her tired body: food, fire, a bath
But her weary mind is wary
That way lie traps and lies

Step in front of painful step
The sting of icy pellets long ceased
Her face too numb to feel
She struggles on toward the glow
Hopeful that this time she might find peace
And kindness in a stranger's home
Instead of blood and death

Still a hundred yards, or more, she cannot tell
In her mind she hears the distant peel
Of a ghostly requiem bell
One step more, she trips and falls
She lies there on the ground, too weak to kneel
And whispers prayers to saints
Who never seem to hear

In the dark she reaches for one
Who'd been with her before the storm
Who once in brighter days had clasped
Her soft waist in his arm
But he had gone, had yielded form
Back to dust, in the beginning of the end
While she was left to survive

The numb begins to warm
The ice is softer now, the wind sings
Pleasant songs instead of ghostly howls
A wisp of hair, a chestnut strand
Blows across her face, as the requiem bell rings
Loud and clear across the barren wastes
Of a post-apocalyptic fantasyland