Grey Cloudy Lies

Charcoal clouds descend to kiss my lips. I close my eyes, wait for the misty caress.


Pursed lips morph into pouting puckers.

My gaze falls upon the boat strapped lazily to the shore. “If I can’t touch you, I’ll draw you.” Determination is a drug, and I’m riding the ultimate high.

Painting supplies in tow, I clamber aboard the floating studio. I sketch, erase, sketch again. Now it’s time for colour.

Paintbrushes perch upon the ledge, soft bristles awaiting my command.

A piercing shriek as brushes slide. They plop, gurgle, slip away. Fluffy clouds chuckle, giving way to sunshine.


Copyright © 2015 by Emily Clayton
Originally appeared on Flash!Friday’s Warmup Wednesday:

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