This is the last prompt before the mania of the April Poem-a-Day challenge begins. ^_^ Here is my offering;

Public domain image, royalty free stock photo from


Aged, infirm, she was half-crippled with
arthritis. Still, her blue eyes were sharp.
She glowed as brightly as the one hun
-dred candles on her lit birthday cake.
(She was half-lit herself, according
to her nephew, a ripe eighty-nine,
himself.) She mused aloud about the
past, her siblings, all long gone now. We
all bent in eagerly to hear her
words, softly whispered, but with such imp
-ish good humor: “They always wanted
to go first, we drew broom straws to see
which had to be ‘it’ and who had to
go last on the pony.” She pauses,
“I didn’t know I’d drawn the short straw
this time; now they’ve all gone before me.”

One thought on “Last

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