Seahorse

Today’s #bandofsketchers prompt was idyllic. Today I was sitting feeling sorry for myself, then my hubby asked me to draw a seahorse like I had drawn on the beach last week. So today’s drawing is a Seahorse from my imagination, it would be idyllic to see a mythological beast like this. Used an old black felt pen because it gave nice soft lines…

Walk

You took my hand, held it tightly. Dragged me up the hill to the viewpoint.

We stared across the tree tops, across the views of hills and valleys. There were old houses and modern warehouses where there used to be fields. It’s gone, you said, our youth and the beauty that was once here.

Remember when we had strength? When hills were virtually flat? When colours were bright and gaudy.

The trees were shorter then, we could see further. We used to hold hands and more. Now, we are lost, can our hearts stay forever together? The hill is steep nowadays. But we walk hand in hand.

Butterfly

Through the dark night a butterfly flits, grey and green, not a moth. Looking for night-time flowers, like night scented stock.

The ghostly wings drop tiny scales, dusting the flowers with small droplets of white and grey.

Wings like snowflakes, flying through the cold dark, settling in a crevice at dawn. Sleeping till sunset arrives again….

Sunburst

Sunlight burst through the grey clouds, but not normal light, and from the wrong direction. Where had this blast of radiation come from? Was it just light or were there other sections of the radioactive spectrum? The blast blew the clouds away. Leaving a sparkling blue sky, only for the clouds to come roiling back seconds later. Thunder rumbled, lightning sparked overhead.

It was the supernova that had been the star Betelguse. Life had been damaged by the blast, would it, could it survive?

Asleep, dreaming

After reading the cycling magazine the cat fell into a deep sleep. As I watched him his back legs started to kick and wheel, like he was pushing pedals, hard. In his dreams he was riding a small bike, resting his forepaws on softly covered handle bars. Cycling up and down the rooves, down into guttering, splashing along, kicking leaves down to the ground. Now he’s going for a wheelie, front wheel pulled up. Leaping the gap between two houses, tail flying like a flag. Eventually, after half an hour of chasing his tail on the bike, round and round in rattling circles, he falls gently into a quiet sleep but remembering his ‘mad cat’ adventures.