The Palanquin

A poem of a sort. The result of today’s writing prompt:

Silk.

Pink silk to be exact.

It hangs above my head and falls beside me in soft folds of luxury.

Unlike the velvet on which I perch, the cooler fabric surrounding me reminds me of the wind.

Light and breezy, it captures my winged thoughts as they float out of my head, eluding my grasp.

Dreams lurk in its billows, shifting like sand under the intensity of my gaze.

Unable to block the sounds, the smooth, translucent screen only hinders my view.

Imperiously, I push back the curtain, entranced by the delight of its softness.

The smiling faces of children startle me, their voices a mere echo of my own “ah” at the touch of

Silk.

 

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