“If My Lady would indulge me.” He bows smartly at the waist, his pampered palm outstretched. Every rule of decency demands, I must elegantly accept.
His spit shine and neatened whiskers a blatant effrontery of couth, as ill intention sweet as succor slips, past lewd lascivious lips.
I smile through risen bile, endure his heated breath upon my nape. As stripped of everything but, title, all propriety be damned, I do as desperation dictates- and oblige- this deplorable ilk of man.
dread of derision erases all decorum impropriety ensues
It’s been awhile since I participated in Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday #synonymsonly. This weeks words Grace and Style however fed right my recent obsession with viewing all six seasons of Downton Abbey in their entirety- again- and I just had to try my hand.
It is trailer park crazy up here, just up the road from Healy Alaska. I am talking Meth Lab Central looking to the more discerning eye. Junk cars, discarded furniture, buses that have a number of wheels standing between them and the road.
am assigned to a trailer named Sunshine. She is a rich harvest gold.
She is warm and bright, and I would venture to guess has been- since
that color was a staple in American home decorating.
My view is snow capped Mount Healy, crowned in her majestic Castle Rock. I follow the moose tracks on the footpath just outside my bedroom window. They take me to the spruce surrounded silence that is Lake Otto, still tucked under what’s left of winters warm blanket of ice. The scent of spring whistles on the wind. And it is no longer the autumn of my life.
Healy Alaska essential ingredients in abundance
Wind, sky, and mountains more than make up for the lack of running water
Tinderbox trailer park, kindling for long dried soul ignites infinite possibilities for a blossom once lost in the haze
I accuse him. In my attempt to prove he has lied, yet again, it becomes evident that my accusation is unfounded.
My accusation is based on facts. The fact that he is a compulsive liar. The fact that I cannot believe a word that comes out of his mouth- without researching it first. The fact that our friendship has been irreparably maimed by a continuous stream of untruths. The fact that I am angry. The fact that I feel disrespected, betrayed.
I apologize for my erroneous accusation, however, I cannot find it in my heart, to extend the olive branch.
Nothing so simple as the lily’s promise of resurrection, can bring forgiveness, when the heart has been fermented by lies.