The sheer luck of it all

She sips her piping hot soup in gentle slurps

Lips touching the spoon precariously

The salty tang transports her to another time

A sombre smile dances on her mouth, so slight

Summer days lazy, lying in gold barley fields

Legs entwined, eyes locked, reading palms

Watching birds fly in crimson skies in single file

A strange order in the marvellous disorder of their lives

Winter embasan in that secret little rivulet

Fingers shrivelled, hair knotty and wet

Weightless and numb in the freezing cold

Heart volitant in wholesome unassuming love

Phlegm catches in her throat

Her wrinkled hands shield her cough

Eighty eight and counting, the body’s taking it hard

Mind still as sharp as a needle, but soon to waste away

In this dull, sterile place: a “home for the aged”

May well be a sanatorium for the sick and deranged.

Where were we, oh yes, this ghastly soup

Just like the one she made her blue-eyed boy too!

He who chased her through barley fields and secret rivulets

Now follows in his wheelchair, as she takes small baby steps

She chuckles at the memory, heeding reality’s call:

Oh the great irony and sheer luck of it all!

Dear Readers,

This has been a response to Wordle #76 by Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie.  The rules were as follows:

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem

The words can appear in an alternate form

Use the words in any order that you like.

1. Sterile

2. Dull

3. Rivulet

4. Barley

5. Volitant (engaged in or having the power of flight. Active; moving.)

6. Phlegm

7. Embasan (to wear clothes while taking a bath)

8. Precarious

9. Sanatorium (a hospital for the treatment of chronic diseases, as tuberculosis or various nervous or mental disorders.)

10. File

11. Sombre (it is just the British spelling of somber use whichever form you prefer)

12. Soup

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5 thoughts on “The sheer luck of it all

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