Saturday, February 18, 2012

Short short.

Since I've been writing all day, and all week, and working on a literary magazine I guess I'll post something I have written, and like somewhat.

The Rose
Sarah’s first love painted the rose.  She still loved him, he loved her brother.
The Tree
Sarah’s brother painted the tree. It was a family tree. She was on it, so was he.  The rose was at it center.  At the trees heart.
The Rabbit
Sarah’s best friend drew the rabbit.  Later she added a rose bush.  The rabbit was eating it.
The Clouds
Sarah’s mother drew the clouds.  She though the roses needed water. Sarah wanted them to wilt.
The Sun
Sarah’s father painted the sun and said it was her, Sarah.  She agreed, trees and roses needed the sun.  And so did the clouds.  But the sun only needed itself.
The Locusts
Sarah’s ex-best friend painted the locusts.  Locusts kill everything; including the sunlight.
The Desert
Sarah drew the desert, because there the sun reigns.  And there are no roses, trees, or clouds.
Sarah’s grandmother painted space over the rose, the clouds, the tree, for Sarah’s mother.  Even the sun.  Because the sun is a star.  And after they die they are seen galaxies away, for years.  Somewhere Sarah’s sun is still shining- because in space it takes years for stars to die.  Like Sarah’s memory they will never be truly gone.

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