Sculpture by Mark Newman
__Picture it and write provides a wonderful opportunity to explore visual images through the words we place on the page. I thank Ermiliablog for providing challenging prompt.
This post is for __Picture it and write # 109, June 14, 2015.
It took but a minute. She went from vibrant woman to a cold stone statue. I had warned her of the power the pixel flower. She laughed. “Old husband’s tales,” with a smile in her voice.
We walked to where the iris grow. She reached her hand ever closer to the flower. Pixel flowers oozed a seductive scent. Women were attracted to the pleasures it promised.
One day, I arrived late. Panting. Just in time to see her place the flower in her hair. Now she will be a monument to vanity, seduction, folly. I sat on my haunches. I would not howl for her. I must guard her. I bite a pixel flower stem, carrying it to her statue. Without a second thought, I partake of the flower. The faithful dog at the feet of his mistress. Always.