WEP - The Red Wheelbarrow - August 2019 Challenge

There's a first time for everything, right? So this is my first attempt at WEP: Write, Edit, Publish. When I visited the site to find out more about WEP, the image smacked me in the face, bringing lots of emotional stuff to the front of my brain. I had to relieve the pressure by writing!

So, how did I get to WEP? I actually took some time to read recent blog posts from friends this afternoon, and as sometimes happens, I began leap-frogging from one blog to another on some sort of crazy link trail. That's how I stumbled, and became ensnared in, the WEP challenge!

WEP Blog

There it sat, forgotten and forlorn.

Flecks of red paint were all that shown

That once it was new, shiny and bright,

With handles of ash that were almost white.

The bed of the wagon canted to one side;

The leg brace was bent from too much pressure applied

When Larken mounded a pile that weighed far too much.

He’d hauled on the handles, with a guttural grunt,

The handles had bowed, the brace gave way

And Larken, swearing loudly, called it a day.

His daughter wandered from house to yard 

As memories assaulted her brain: sluggish and scarred.

She watched total strangers pick up objects to inspect,

Knowing they didn’t necessarily mean disrespect.

They couldn't know the stories or the memories each held

And she ached to shout out to them, she wanted to yell

That each one of these objects had been caressed by worn hands

Of Larken: a farmer, a grandpa, a scholar. Her dad. 

Her heart clenched, her throat closed, not a sound could she make.

She could only watch as the strangers would take

Another piece of Dad’s life to the cashier of the sale,

Tears welled in her eyes, she struggled to exhale.

A mere girl pulled her man toward the barn by his hand

And pointed to the wheel barrow; He must understand!

This is just what I need for our little place.

It can be my garden with a coat of red of paint.

You can straighten the leg and I’ll add some dirt,

And plant zinnias and mums and purple larkspur.

The daughter smiled. Dad's wheelbarrow, no longer old and worn,

Would get a new life as it was reborn.

I value your comments.


278 carefully chosen words! So hard to pick just the perfect one!
FCA