image from Pixabay

Slipstream

*******

Soar

Lapwing

Into your

Plodding wing beat

Steady, uneven

Turning and rising high

Riding the thermals into

Eternity among the clouds

Angels watch your slow un rhythmic beat

My soul yearns to ride within your slipstream.

This is part of #SoCs.

LindaGHill said: “Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “lip.” Use it as a word, or find a word with “lip”in it. As always, use any way you’d like. Enjoy!”

Image credit Pobble365

An upward struggle.
Hard to know which way is which.
Mysteriously,
it matters not whether we
live the truth or follow lies.

By Sarah ©2019

#NaPoWriMo – Day 13, 2019

I was so excited to go to the Lions Club Charity Book Fair in Bridgend this morning. I didn’t go last year I had no room and was planning on moving house. I got a bigger house now and I’ve given up banning myself from buying books. A good morning, I just spent two hours going around and around, spotting books the second time that I didn’t see the first.

My mother was looking for Outlander books but we didn’t see any and I was hoping for  Neil Gaiman books.

Last time I went I bought nine so I only bought one more this time.

These are my impulse buys

I’ve keep hearing a lot about Six Of Crows, I picked it up and put it down so many times, if I don’t read it or don’t like it then I’ll donate it back. The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas…

My aged travelling companion, Crisp, was beside herself with excitement, and that in itself was no mean feat, as today we were going in search of an ancient Roman road.

Crisp had seen a lot of history in her time, which is the case for those who have lived a long life.

She was up early with her trusty walking shoes all spit and polished. Her enthusiasm was infectious as we set off with her leading the way from the bus stop into the bush where she was anticipating the road to be.

Around a small bend, she found it. Time had not done it any favours, but Crisp in true form took copious photos and couldn’t help but stand back and marvel at what appeared to be a few rocks lain in some obscure pattern, telling me we were lucky to be standing on the old London Road.

Written…

Image credit Pobble365

Did I come from the sky?
Like a bolt from furious thunderheads.

Did I come from the rain?
Pelting the expanse with lashings of tears.

Did I come from the thunder?
Rumbling and grumbling so low.

Did I come to strike?
Stinging you with electric light.

Did I mean to?
Don’t you know?

I have arrived.
Lightning never strikes twice.

By Sarah ©2019

#NaPoWriMo – Day 11, 2019

My soul craves solitude —
a walk in the desert
to collect my blurred thoughts
and so I’ll go on a journey