By Eric Persaud
Pluck, pluck, pluck. I pick the petals off a sunflower from my school’s garden. Pluck, she loves me. Pluck, she doesn’t love me. Pluck, pluck, pluck. My head lifts to watch the blue above. Each drifting cloud sort of looks like owls, or perhaps doves.
Pluck, she loves me. Pluck, she doesn’t love me. The school bell rings with a bee-like buzz and sting. I’ve hidden in the garden all day, and not a soul has noticed. Classes are over and it’s time to go home. I finally look down, and all the petals are gone, and so is the girl.
Pluck… pluck.. You had your window, man, and you lost it. Nobody notices. That’s what happens if you hide in the garden all day.
Enjoyed reading about the flowers, the clouds, the bee-like buzz and sting. Really felt I was in your school garden.
Thank you Rosemary!
Fantastic! The buzz and sting of the bell is wonderful phrasing, and the story is compelling.