Unbound

Black doesn’t suit her for she craves fuschia, amber, mauve, and cyan.
Peacock feathers and shiny gold beads are the things she needs
yes, needs to weave through her vibrant red hair.
Not this dark, veiled hat that covers her curls and hides her striking blue eyes.

But funerals demand black, scream for tears.
For one day, she’ll provide both.
A trip to Goodwill, menthol smeared beneath her eyes.
Sure, she can be the grieving widow for a day,
smile over tuna casserole and peach pie.

All she has ever wanted is everything he owned.
And, oh yes, now she has it.

What’s Important?

This is my 99 word response to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields weekly photo prompt. Thank you, fearless leader, for keeping our minds working – whether the prompts be old or new.

Masala watched yellow sand swirl through the air – a thousand dervishes waiting to scour her delicate brown skin. Last night Papa told her she must go to the village well – alone. The five mile walk didn’t worry Masala. Thirst and the men from the neighboring tribe did. She fingered the puckered scar on her cheek – a reminder of the last time she’d encountered them. Masala began to walk.

Steam filled the bathroom while Annabelle worked pre-shower moisturizer into her ivory skin. Hot water left gushing, she stopped to study the enormous pimple on her forehead. OMG! What would Ronald think?

An InLinkz Link-up