100 Words: The Yellow House by the Blue Sea

Won't you stop by for tea

In the Yellow house 

By the Blue Sea

Won’t you spend time with me 

In the Yellow house 

By the Blue Sea

I wrote this down for you to see

In the Yellow house 

By the Blue Sea

Left it on your settee

In the Yellow house 

By the Blue Sea

If only I could leave me

In the Yellow house 

By the Blue Sea

Then I would run to you

Then I would say to you

Come and be with me 

In the Yellow house 

By the Blue Sea

Always always

Forever ever

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Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rowena Curtin

Worry

Something that grows 

until it’s exposed.

Something that thrives in the dark, 

but withers at the slightest spark -

Worry is a mould that festers,

unless you cut it off at source,

Worry is a ghoul that pesters,

never let it run its course.

So

Let me share it with you now,

Let its hold diminish.

Let me share it with you now,

Let this feeling finish.

And

Let us talk so that you can walk,

Let me help carry so you don’t tarry.

Never worry on your own;

Know that you’re not alone.

Bin Flowers

Bin flowers hit me like a cold shower's worth of truth.  Remind me of Ruth. The girl with curls with whom I wanted to whirl and to dance and to prance across town in her best night/ball gown. My advances she assigned to a bin, her affections I could not win. But what of this scene? Who? What? Today. Here. How? I wanted to help right now. Traced the flowers to the florist, asked them was it a tourist? No, an office worker, a regular, no shirker. They even knew which one, thought my task would be easily done but they wouldn’t talk to me about it, walked away all clouded.  Until the fifth day I tried to block their way (metaphorically) when they shouted, sprayed and spouted, “Look, they didn’t turn up, only texted, I had burned it all, really messed it.  Maybe I should have given them away, but my mind was all in a fray; I took love for granted, didn’t care for it and I lanced it.”  So these bin flowers were wasted by someone who was too hasty. But what about yours?