As they began fancying homemade pie for dessert, engaging and light hearted conversation descended into pointless, self-serving argumentation which uncontrollably pinballed around the table.
During this frenzied ruction of wrangling words, the youngest grandchild innocently wondered why nobody bothered to stop speaking and start listening.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Bone chilling wind and swirling, swelling snow seemed to subside when I spotted the inviting glow of a familiar A-frame home near the bend in the road on Sugar Plum Lane.
The family inside had been baking holiday cheer, so when the decorated door opened presently, I was greeted with many savory sweet scents and the warm welcoming arms of Mr. Gingerbread.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Temperatures are tumbling and flurries are flying yet the sky is widening, as if opening up its majestic arms to welcome a reconditioned season for a warm winter hug.
Beneath this unfolding fuss, a single slender tree stands silent, as the gloaming autumn surrenders itself to the jabbering yaff of true chilling frost.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
I went outside, beyond the terrace, to see the toil that had taken place.
Energy that was put in a pile sits dormant, awaiting hands that could ignite a true ignition in us all.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
The grandparents had a comfy cozy home filled with generations of family who had come to celebrate the 50th wedding anniversary of an endearing duo that always made time for each other.
As gathered guests patiently waited, the elder twain took their love on that daily walk which was a cherished time to trade soft kisses and secretly enjoy a special togetherness found rustling with the leaves.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Bustle and bravado defined a thriving workplace where creativity walked between buildings, as a medial watercourse of flowing energy fueled the furnace of enthusiasm.
When the slowing motion of life-bringing blood stopped feeding the heartbeat of inspiration, a pusillanimous panic quickly became an empty, stagnant echo along a polluted, currentless river.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
The horribly disfigured, eyeless face staring directly at me from a filthy, shadeless second floor window wasn’t necessarily there.
Costumes and candy fueled caterwauling continued on the crowded concrete steps, while that gruesome enigmatic image appeared to peer at nobody else.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
They hadn’t actually seen each other because the whimsy of wind and distance was playing cat and mouse with the favorable airflow of a fortuitous path crossing.
While minding the meandering momentums of the day, a mutual, steadfast spirit stayed true and led them to this marvelous moment of a simple handshake.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
A street beacon amid the twiggy branches ignites into incandescence when the dim doorway to dusk becomes an evening exhibition of developing darkness.
Illumination from the lamppost rides piggyback on commuting characters whose sidewalk shadows slide out from underneath their steady stride and elongate into the night.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
They once came on frozen rails without pretense to share the jolly with a sustained station bustling with local services for a truly languishing community…
Yesterday, a destitute curmudgeon dropped his found piece of bread and knelt at the very same train car that took him in so many years ago.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
She stretched outwardly above the mirror to get a better view of the prismatic vivid visage that was now ablaze upon her colorful autumnal torso.
She admired the growth of her glorious gown which gleamed with snazzy seasonal sequins, and found herself captivated by the flaring foliage of her rhythmic reflection.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Visitors from a vast vacationland follow their own hysteria to a perceived presence which is hauntingly housed throughout the shadowy streets of a storied city.
Wearing creative Halloween costumes countless hordes are drawn into an anticipation abyss, searching for lurking manifesting macabre and some semblance of sensory validation.
(Photo: Edward Roads -The Witch House in Salem).
Written by Edward Roads
The balding old man with an untidy fuzzy gray beard, wore muck stained blue jean overalls and scuffed laceless black work boots that snapped back to his heels when he walked.
Each autumn morning he pushed a quickly assembled display cart perfectly into place, which warmly welcomed an unwavering flow of wide-eyed fresh faces and loyal returning customers to his beloved farm stand.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
They once stood grand green and lush within their nurtured station, waggishly waving along with the oft warm breezes of summer as an unnoticing city occasionally strolled by.
It was now approaching sleepy season, so the caboodle of drowsy ferns with yellowing appetites huddled together preparing for the inevitable interlude which cued that same old winter song.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
I was walking a long narrow road intent on an afternoon of apple picking, when my soul became enveloped by a kaleidoscopic drapery of stirring seasonal illumination.
Millions of rustling leaves, singed with autumnal pageantry, had fallen neatly into a makeshift curb which lined my route through a dynamically dappled flume filled with a cornucopia of colorful wonderment.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Mytwosentences 