Terry McDermott

Fifty

Yellow balloons

Drifting by my window

Waking I wonder if it was

A dream

This is a Cinquian. Syllable count is 2-4-6-8-2. When writing this I thought about that song in eighties about a 100 red balloons.

In Rattlesnake City

The moonlight had never shined

Poison reigned supreme

A small lamb offered his life

Bitten in his heart

Leaving a bloody red scar

The rattlesnakes mocked his tomb

A lion appeared

With a crown upon his head

His subjects shouted

As the rattlesnakes were consumed

The moonlight then beamed

On this noble conqueror

The red scar on his heart glowed

A petal drifted upon the dog’s back. Jumping in the river, the current pulled it away. Landing on

the bank, a girl picked it up. “A treasure,” she yelled placing it in her locket.

Years later she moved to Paris with locket in hand. The petal still inside. Immortality

had been obtained.

This is 55 Fiction where you write a story in 55 words or less.

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I mainly write structured non-rhyming poetry