He found me cloaked in clouds and sun, and knew me with his presence. I cared not of his appearance, for I noticed none. I belonged to him. We traveled together, him and I. I let him lead, yes, I let him lead. It didn’t take long for strangers to come and say they were friends.. They were jealous and I, pushed aside. Now rain drowned out his voice and wind swept me into the hands of others. Others, who thought they knew more than I.
His love stronger, he beckons even though too often I dress in their stories. Patterned and purple as night, his appearance still dim, I am fragile and frightened. What does one do with reality? It is so foreign a taste, one to acquire till it is the only thing you desire. Once known you are never alone.
Dversepoets.com Another Prosery! No more than 144 words. Prose which includes a line from a poem. We are allowed to change punctuation but not the words.
Lisa writes, “The line I chose is from her poem, “When We Sing of Might,” by Kimberly Blaeser”
“I dress in their stories patterned and purple as night”.
Exactly 144 words including the title. Creative non-fiction.
mehflowers 
Well that was very, very clever…and certainly beautifully written…the last lines really closed nicely, must say.
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Extremely creative and a wise conclusion, Mary!
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This is a great write, Mary. I live the metaphors in your story. This is a pivotal question…
What does one do with reality?
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Mary, I like how you broke up the line. I see the purple here as omnipotent spirit that one can relax and lean upon.
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Ah, the red pill of reality! “Once known you are never alone.”
Pax,
Dora
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I really like how you split the line, Mary… I was thinking of doing that too, but you pulled it off so naturally here – well done!
❤
David
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