Contributor: Christina C. Franklin

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She sews.
The humming is rhythmic and purposeful,
The pedal stays depressed,
She continues onward.

Her mind wanders endlessly
Never at home base
Too many images
Why are so many bothering her?

“Stay away”, she whispers
Sewing faster and more determined.
They won’t stop talking to her.
She’s at their mercy.

Her whispering grows louder
Hands grasping threads tighter
The fabric screams to be released.
“Shut up!” she says.

The walls keep talking.
She gets up to pace a never-ending track
Trying to sort through the messages,
But never sure of reality.

She cooks.
The clicking is rhythmic and purposeful.
The whisk keeps turning.
She continues onward.

The purple plate annoys her,
Colors dance an important role.
Pacify the voices,
Reach for another in the spectrum.

They stay by her side
Telling her stories of grandeur,
But spilling only lies.
“Leave me alone”, she spouts.

Louder the tales are told
Of far off lands of kings and queens
That live in a fantasy castle
Inside a blurred veracity.

Messages pound into her conscious.
“Stay away”, she pleads
Strangling the pot handle
As its contents overflow.

She gardens.
The digging is rhythmic and purposeful.
The trowel collects soil.
She continues onward.


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A reader of many genres and an incurable fan of the heat miser and snow miser, on a typical day, Christina can be found sitting under a pile of black and white fur in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch Country, while attempting to pen her first novel. Currently, several of her short stories can be found on The Story Shack. She welcomes you to view her blog at: www.myfiddlefaddlesabbatical.blogspot.com.