Any Just Reason

She stood, a breathless sculpture, in the empty ballroom. Endless bars of light from the ceiling high windows stained the floor and barred her exit.

In her mind, she could visualise the starched white tablecloths and perfectly polished cutlery, strategically arranged amongst floral centrepieces, and the crystal glassware that perfectly reflected

the gentle light from the ancient chandeliers and white church candles.

She could faintly hear the soft cadences of the string quartet, and the laughter and the clinking of glasses and she breathed in deeply, absorbing the faint scent of white freesia, pink rose, babies breath.

She admired the colour matched napkins and the hand written place cards embossed with names in a Celtic font. Sarah and Michael.  Sarah.

Running her hand over her heavy wool jacket, her fingers brushed soft white satin, hand beaded with a thousand tiny crystals, that dispersed the light and her happiness on their perfect day.

Now her perfect day.

Without him.


3 thoughts on “Any Just Reason

  1. lightningpen says:

    Hi, this is a beautiful piece yet somewhat dark at the end! Great art doesn’t believe in boundaries, and this poem exemplifies that! Thank you for the follow! Keep writing the page full!

    1. Susan Moffat says:

      Thanks…glad you liked it. It’s great to get feedback! I’m really enjoying flash fiction writing at the moment…I’m actually in the middle of writing a collection and thinking about self publishing on Kindle. Watch this space!

  2. bardessdmdenton says:

    A piece for the senses–full of textures and sounds and breathing in and out. You have a real talent for description, something I love. Certainly draws you into the scene … and the story …

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