Old Story

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #330

Words:  lock, runner, shard, shoe, tongue, screen, slippery, shock. time, grass, broken, chain

Then there was the time
Aunt Myra threw a shoe
at Uncle Max. Oh, she had
a wicked tongue and temper.
Presented with the fact
that Max pulled a runner
on her–slipped off the wagon,
and was found curled up
on the grass like a besotted
baby–Aunt Myra heated
scathing red. She slammed
the screen door with such
animas, it broke, sagging
like an old bed spring.
She changed the locks,
and replaced that flimsy
chain. Max was shocked,
locked out. He pounded
on a kitchen window
until it shattered
leaving shards of glass
glittering on the bleached
front porch. That is when
Aunt Myra threw an old,
sturdy Florsheim shoe
at Uncle Max. Fact is,
they are still together.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
This entry was posted in Purple's Home and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Old Story

  1. colonialist says:

    Just a mild marital difference of opinion, Amazing that Max survived that shoe, actually.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. any1mark says:

    I have known a few Myras. Always making a mountain out of a mole hill, then getting bent out of shape when there is a landslide.

    Liked by 1 person

Comments are closed.