Thursday Evening Prompts

Another set will be posted at 10:30



Red as taillights, red as a stop light

Your heartbeat flew into the room

A child I'd curl up small at night

I am not yet born; Oh hear me

We will never remember dying

We were low on petrol

I hadn't met his kind before

Before the spectacled professor snipped

Sometimes I wonder what I'm like underneath

Here is a soul, accepting nothing

"Will I die?" you ask. I pause

She wanted a little room for thinking

This is the gift my son gave me

It's not the hens that matter, scratching

Later, maybe, hanky-panky

This is my daughter and this is my son

I'm coming back as a Labrador, or the saddle of a lady's bike

When all the others were away at mass

The memory of my father is brown paper, sticks

Every other weekend, they go to their mother's

I don't need to tell you what you've done

Catching Life by the throat

You do not do, you do not do