Skip to main content

Wishing for a Valentine

https://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/resources/writing-prompts/

Flowers, roses, a kiss on the cheek
I am lonely with no one to love me,
Oh how I wish for a Valentine.

This beautiful Rose, red and bright
I am lonely with no one to give one to me,
Oh how I wish for a Valentine.

Dinner, candles or a card,
I am lonely at work,
Oh how I wish for a Valentine.

The Rose withers away in my hands
A hand holds it with me to keep it safe,
The hand embraces mine tightly,
I am no longer lonely,
I have a Valentine, wishes do really come true.



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Letters of the Past

The letters in his hand were crisp, clean, and pure white and had the age of youth while Sebastian's hands were wrinkled, old and worn out. He smelt the perfume of the letters which were like flowers in the room showing down onto him. He rocked slowly as he held them and whispered 'Lillian' while Beatrice didn't budge and had gone to sleep purring away in his lap.  As the light glistened in the fireplace the colours were reflecting onto the walls of the living room like colours of the rainbow as he thought of Lillian and the past. It was at university where he had met her first, he was himself lost in the corridors, with his shirt half tucked into his trousers, tie askew and hair rough and looking at the board trying to find his class. He heard her voice, 'excuse me' and turned towards her. It was her golden hair that struck him. It shone in the corridor like a gem and it was long. She looked as though she were a mermaid emerging from the sea. He could feel...
Post a Comment
Read more

Dining Table

this piece has been inspired by http://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/resources/writing-prompts/ Dining Table Empty table, empty chairs, candles unlit and bare, promise of what could be basket of pears, but just isn't there. Empty table, empty chairs, candles unlit and vacant promise of what could be a sign of fragrant, but just isn't there. Empty table, empty chairs, table cloth and a beautiful room promise of what could be a bloom of people hustle and bustle, but in reality it isn't there.
Post a Comment
Read more

The Cello

https://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/vittorio-zamboni-467151.jpg It taunts me as I look at it, where I left it last, in the spare room. It is saying play me, but how can I play? My lost limb is no longer there, taken by the crash, smash of the driver who claims he didn't see me coming. 'Wow you were amazing'. 'You are going to go far with your talent'. 'Next upcoming Cello player Jessica Kimyani'. These were the past phrases, the reviews I used to receive in my concerts. I was approached to play at the Royal Opera House. But the accident took that away like a thief stealing precious momento's from the house. The pink ribbon, lush and full of life, raps itself around the Cello like a snake, whilst I broken, tattered and worn stand in it's glow. 'I'm sorry, but we have to cut the arm off' said the Physician. 'But my arm, it is necessary?' 'Yes I'm sorry Miss Kimyani, but the arm has e...
Post a Comment
Read more