She’d lived with her widowed grandfather since she was orphaned at twelve. He proudly walked her down the aisle when she married. Every year since, she’d returned to the cabin to spend his birthday week with him. They watched movies on VHS tapes. His favorites were the old ones starring Cary Grant, Spencer Tracey, or John Wayne.
This year, she’d brought the Harry Potter series on VHS tapes. They were twenty minutes into the first one when he complained loudly. “Wizards? This is ridiculous!”
She started to ask, “What does it matter that . . .”
“The stars we see are already dead. The ones we always watch. They’re in plots you can understand,” he harrumphed. “I’m gettin’ a beer and goin’ out to watch the moon. Seein’ a man up there is more real than this!”
She smiled, “Okay, Gramps. You win. I’m coming too.”
Written for Prosery Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Dora is hosting and introduces us to Amy Woolard. She asks us to include the line “What does it matter that the stars we see are already dead” from Woolard’s poem, Laura Palmer Graduates, in our post.
Prosery was invented by dVerse: one line of poetry is provided and we must include that line, word for word, within a piece of prose/flash fiction that is 144 words or less (sans title). It’s the one type of prompt on dVesre, that does not involve writing poetry.
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lillian the home poet 