WRITING PROMPT
Vein of Gold
A poem
I’m that picture, that poem: the one that stands out yet passes you by, without stopping. So cliché, a broken thing veined with gold, my own clumsy repair job.
Dishes soaking, grimy corners with the odd cobweb undisturbed, unnoticed. Dust bunny dogs line my hallway. Yet plants thrive here, carefully tended.
Lawn needs to be mowed. Heads shake, walking by, but dandelions, white star-heads still stand breathless — not yet ready to fly — I’m waiting for that.
Imperfect, my mess. Perfect, my home.
Elizabeth Barnesco May, 2021
In response to Being Known’s Monthly Writing Prompt:
