interlude (the day it didn't rain)
title: interlude (the day it didn't rain)
author:
faeriemaiden.
format & word count: poem, 171 words.
rating: g.
prompt: sixteen (interlude).
warning: I don't think there are any, for once. There isn't even any severe geekery in this, oddly enough. Er, there's angst?
summary: One morning it stopped raining. An interlude.
author's note: Also I don't seem to have much to say, which is even odder. I'm reasonably satisfied with this, and it sort of happened, which is nice.
interlude (the day it didn’t rain)
one morning it stopped raining.
all week and then some it’d been like that, grey
and wet and cold and grey. inside the house
always seemed to be getting smaller. but that morning
there wasn’t any rain at all, except yesterday’s
rain still leaking off the eaves and gutters.
the first thing she did was kiss him. he
was all tangled in sheets and there was sun on his face
(funny because the sun hardly ever got through
these dim windows with any kind of clarity.)
the second thing she did was cry.
he wasn’t quite awake. he put a hand to her face.
“dora?” - “it won’t last,” she said. “it never lasts.
tomorrow morning it’s going to rain again.”
tomorrow morning they would get the paper
and someone else would have died.
she was sick all over with death.
“that’s tomorrow,” he said, and he looked so tired
so she came in close because she was tired too.
“let’s have a day outside of it.”
so there was a moment in the dim of the bedroom
when there wasn’t any war.
author:
faeriemaiden.
format & word count: poem, 171 words.
rating: g.
prompt: sixteen (interlude).
warning: I don't think there are any, for once. There isn't even any severe geekery in this, oddly enough. Er, there's angst?
summary: One morning it stopped raining. An interlude.
author's note: Also I don't seem to have much to say, which is even odder. I'm reasonably satisfied with this, and it sort of happened, which is nice.
interlude (the day it didn’t rain)
one morning it stopped raining.
all week and then some it’d been like that, grey
and wet and cold and grey. inside the house
always seemed to be getting smaller. but that morning
there wasn’t any rain at all, except yesterday’s
rain still leaking off the eaves and gutters.
the first thing she did was kiss him. he
was all tangled in sheets and there was sun on his face
(funny because the sun hardly ever got through
these dim windows with any kind of clarity.)
the second thing she did was cry.
he wasn’t quite awake. he put a hand to her face.
“dora?” - “it won’t last,” she said. “it never lasts.
tomorrow morning it’s going to rain again.”
tomorrow morning they would get the paper
and someone else would have died.
she was sick all over with death.
“that’s tomorrow,” he said, and he looked so tired
so she came in close because she was tired too.
“let’s have a day outside of it.”
so there was a moment in the dim of the bedroom
when there wasn’t any war.