Thank you to Rochelle, who gives us this gift of Friday Fictioneers.
Step In Your High Stepping Style
I tripped on an upgrade in pavement, yanked a tendon which meant when I tried to stand, I slapped hard again, my face smashed, bloodied, caking against my lips and nose.
You never answered my call in the ER. I arrived home by taxi.
The tree resembles you. Leafless and wrinkled.
I try to stand every day, invoke muscle strength. I try to forget the fear of falling. I try to look at you and not remember hostility.
Somewhere I hear my Daddy singing the phrase from my favorite storybook: giddyup, giddyup little pony. Step in your high stepping style.
Sascha Darlington 10/22/2017