The Friday Fictioneers Challenge can be found here (FF).
As a young boy I liked to help my grandfather bale the straw, load it on his tractor and then drive that old tractor to the outskirts of town and sell to the local crop dealer. He taught me to drive that old Ford tractor before I could drive a car. Some days we had to wait in line before we could unload our tractor. While he waited in line I went inside to spend some time with the other boys my age. I was having a ball.
But one day, while waiting, he accidentally left me there by myself.
Word count = 100
This post is in response to ermilia.
by Jonathan Taylor Sweet
Tell me again about the past
The one where everything was green or blue
Why now just us
In this winter cave
I only see the future and in this dream there is but one of us
This story is written for Friday Fictioneers.
born to poverty, living with fear and crime
left the dirty city with nothing and expected the same and not to do time
he bought this farm with his very last nickel
working day and night with some old hammer and sickle
young and fearless, some say reckless, he married his true love and had five children
determined with all his might not to be a lowly pilgrim
where will it all stop he often wondered
one thing he knew he didn’t want to live to be a hundred
his lined face and worn frame indicated the ringing of his bell lap
Well … off we go on our first part of our journey straight through the Soviet Union with the TSR up to Vladivostok and finally we will arrive at Shikoku Island. I combined a Haiku pared with an American Sentence. Special thanks to Bjorn.
Written for Carpe Diem.
Clouds out my window
violin strings are in the air
a leaving behind
Reflecting on the pleasure of the journey that will be my future.
Table chair bowl of fruit
train whistles mark my journey
a new life begins