False Impressions of Bigger and Better Places

I stopped to listen
to the song
of the morning breeze
in the trees.

It had sought me out
in the pre-dawn light,
carrying
the memories
I had thought to leave
trapped within
the small
places behind me.

This little road will
lead me
to big dreams
in places
where memories
and breezes
follow instructions.

.

At dVerse, mr Miller, the birthday boy (or was yesterday
when he posted the prompt), asks for a story
in exactly 55 words. This is really just the beginning
of a story…I wonder what he will discover…

also posted with the g-man per Brian’s birthday wishes

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9 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

9 responses to “False Impressions of Bigger and Better Places

  1. nice – do memories actually ever follow instructions? if so, i’d like to know how to make ’em 😉

  2. good luck with that…it would def be a magical place where we could command the wind and our dreams/memories and they would listen, instead of imposing their will upon us…

  3. I would love to find that place where memories and dreams follow instructions….perhaps it is located just around the next corner. Smiles.

  4. Ah…this is wonderful! Well done!

  5. We should never give up hope of finding the road to happiness.
    Thank you for visiting
    Thank you for playing
    I loved your 55
    Have a Kick Ass Week-End

  6. jeepwalters

    Memories are good or bad. It depends where you want them to lead you. But either way you expressed your 55 with great aplomb. Well done, Mark.

  7. lovely words … and memories are there for good and for bad…

  8. sometimes the small places are better than the big ones as they leave us more freedom….places
    where memories
    and breezes
    follow instructions…. ugh… not sure if that is the place where i would want to be…

  9. memories – don’t often behave, but yes… some memories need to be tucked away and seldom replayed – sometimes that is the only way forward. The morning breeze, seeking you out is very pretty writing.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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