On a Sunday stroll with muted celerity, did you happen to hear the very first breath that tasted the tickled sweetness borne within the hypaethral expanse of today’s sunrise?
Unfortunately, our day to day psittacism frequently overlooks the simple amplitude and sensory quality that each of us honestly and uniquely strives to posess.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
The hypnotic skirl of parade bagpipes could be heard warming behind tightly bundled six year old twin boys whose curiosity drew them closer to a marvelously endemic, nautical sculpture.
As the arm swinging bandmaster led two synchronized rows of frosty kilts down a spectator-lined boulevard, the twins’ eyes boggled at their briefly visible puffs of breath that mingled with frozen sails like quickly passing fair weather clouds.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
The typically unfashionable girl who always wore stripes, but today wore a solid light blue blouse, asked her grumpy father why mom would not be dropped off by her colonge reeking, fakely handsome boss.
After putting on a marginally protective, overly worn oven mitt, the big smiling little girl pulled a perfectly reheated pizza out of a dirty oven and demanded they recycle the box.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Summoning courage I had only known from campy tales with unconvincing characters, I hobbled over to the bulkhead door and haphazardly slid-open an unexpectedly loose deadbolt lock.
After flipping on a rusty, insufficient patio light, I stepped into the thick air of a perfectly still and obscenely quiet nightscape that provided a touch of solace, until the open door behind me slammed shut.
(Continued from Mytwosentences 134)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
When I pressed my glowering face against the cold window to get better focus, cheek and glass vibrated in consonance as resonating rumbles of thunder rolled low across a threatening sky.
Inside my muddled mind, a bone-dry sugarcane field burned and fusty senses turned tourbillion as a flash punch cracked the glass and snapped me back to the cellar floor.
(Continued from Mytwosentences 123)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
The man with a slightly understated striped gray hat and a penchant for off the rack checked suits grabbed the nearest fawn, which was sexy but not overly so.
The table, which was always sought by the most important people who ever bled or breathed, waited.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
On the cold side of a clear kitchen pane, an almost audible serenity presided over the early morning stretch from abounding twigs and blanketed boughs.
With breath and hot coffee steaming the window, a newly opened front door practically framed the trundle of the living day, which appeared to momentarily stop and smile back.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Holding the ballot in my free hand, I purposefully pulled a colorful linen curtain to the side and slipped into a makeshift, fiberglass voting booth that exoterically resembled a motel step-in shower stall.
As I reached for the partially chewed scepter of expression, I was summarily slapped in the face by the grandeur of this dutiful moment and the inherent limitation of my simple station.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
The amative man with created red hair and a pocketless plaid jacket was about to hold the arm of a fubsy blind woman who was curiously smiling on a busy train platform.
As his pocked, hardened hand extended in a cordial show of support, the menial mystery of his lost reading glasses appeared snugly in the caring clutch of a perceptive, unbusy lady named Rose.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Have you ever seen something so astoundingly beautiful that it could not be expressed with drawn breath and words?
When the warm alpenglow of heart arrives, forgotten seeds will bloom within a barren field without tasting a spat of water.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
A tiny woman with work-a-day dirt on her face demanded the wagon train stop before the next filthy man with a half empty bottle of whiskey spit out the usual semi-coherent blah blah blah that meant stop.
As so called frontier beans were slowly heating above yet another fire, lurking scoundrels began running beyond the spinning spoked wheels which rolled with a rickety rack towards the many unclaimed parcels of land that were up for grabs.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
He didn’t know, he never knew, he just sat in his saved seat day after day and sipped a delicate promise for tomorrow.
I asked him his name and where he was from and he
gleefully gave me a glassy eyed ‘see you tomorrow’ which came with
a hug that felt like a true taste of yesterday and what was expected of each and every one of us.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Despite owning a trendy new laptop and a wall flattering flat screen, he was the kind of man who took the time to write to his friends in longhand and look people directly in the eye when he had something to say.
As he was about to walk his only daughter down the aisle, he beheld this unforgettable trice of fatherhood and wholeheartedly embraced it as if it was an eternal teardrop frozen in a timeline of love.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
As twisty gray branches stretch to touch the dense cloud deck thickening above a rust of needles and pine cones, the cold breath of winter’s envious voice freezes on contact with the lifeless nape of a woodland neck.
After a valediction from the lifting morning fog, a drab landscape transforms into eudemonic lushness which flourishes within the untethered imagination of those willing to pause, calmly breathe and believe.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
As I wiped drying drops of blood off my brow, numbing knees briefly held me in place while the enigmatic figure unlocked his lamp-like eyes from mine to turn and point into the darkness.
While choking on my pounding heart, which was throwing itself against my chest, the retreating silhouette dissolved into the nighttide revealing the incomprehensible sight of a cemetery entrance that simply didn’t exist.
(Continued from Mytwosentences 122)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Mytwosentences 