Menolyrical; Final Friday Fiction

Here we are again, so soon! On the brighter side, it means Fear-buary is nearly over. Anyhoo... dust off your piccies and choose one or a few to tell us a story in whatever way you wish. If you are new here, check out the 'rulez' on the page tab above.

Here is one of my re-discovered artistic explorations; I have a vague recall of being given the scraperboard by my mother one Christmas. The scene was inspired by the rather magnificent cemetery that was across the road from our home at that time. I have always rather liked cemeteries... Next week is Dr Seuss day, so let me now wander the weird and wonderful of imagination.

Something was awry

the sun not in the sky

the moon instead was high

and the wind through leaves did sigh.

The clouds stood out stark

upon the inky dark

in which there sang no lark

and the shadows slid on bark

Sitting by the wall

the roving eye did fall

upon an oak tree gall

and reached out for the marble

Smooth in hand and round

to the touch it was found

but then fell it to ground

as came there disturbing sound

Cracks in stones appeared

clouds o'er the moon were veered

to tree top the eyes peered

and the beholder was afeared

A figure there sat

loosely dressed without hat

what hands there were held flat

and the face was blank and matt

What then was this sprite

that rode into the night

upon an oak tree's height

and never leaving our sight

Coulds't it be divine

winged squirrel - porcupine

or dev'lish bovine

... whoa! Time to cease the wine...

© YAM 2022