For how can I be sure
I shall see again
The world on the first of May
–From “May Day” by Sara Teasdale
I’ve fallen on black days. My ears are deaf to birdsong; nose unmoved by the scent of hyacinth; the soft crush of early strawberries between my molars untasted. Mid-Spring breezes skim over bundled limbs. Most disconcerting is that my soul has slipped into anaerobic muck and pulled a rock over itself.
In past gloom of ill-fortune silhouettes were yet discernible, serving as promises to brighter tomorrows. Not this time and it nags me; for how can I be sure I shall see again?
The world on the first of May comes knocking. A small girl with long brown hair stands there, holding a small beagle puppy.
“Is he yours?,” she asks.
“No, not mine.”
“Good. Mom said if he isn’t yours maybe I can keep him!” Her eyes sparkle. She turns and runs back next door, bursting to share the news.
Merril is today’s host for dVerse’ Prosery. Merril says:
Write a piece of flash fiction or other prose of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line [at the top of the page.]