© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham
The only residents remaining in the small town of Miners Hill are spirits.
The rest, all visitors ,blow in and out , not knowing their merits,
Like dry leaves drawing the wind’s signature,
they let greed be their ligature,
binding earth to their trash,
crying when one amongst them turns to ash.
The rest, all visitors , of no substance -just glitz, forgets
that the only residents remaining in the small town of Miners Hill are spirits.
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The above poem was in response to ‘Monday’s finish the story’ flash fiction challenge. This unique flash fiction challenge provides a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. The challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. Details are available in this link:
https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/05/25/mondays-finish-the-story-may-25th-2015/
Roots & Water 
Very nice poem! I love how you used the prompt to write poetry. Wonderful!
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Thanks PJ. The starting sentence was very leading and my ‘spirit’ didn’t want to go where it was leading 🙂
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That’s perfectly understandable. 🙂
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I love the shape of your poem – nice job!
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Thanks Sonya.
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A lovely poem. 🙂
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Thanks!
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Applause! Applause! Excellent poetry! Thank you for contributing to the Mondays Finish the Story challenge and I do hope that you return for the next one too! Be well… ^..^
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Thanks!
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😀
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Very nice poem, and I loved the repetition of the first line at the end.
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A lot is said in a few words – nice poem.
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Lovely poem, such emotion. This line… “Like dry leaves drawing the wind’s signature”… beautiful.
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Good poem. Sounds like the visitors have no respect and are littering the place. No wonder the spirits are sad. Well done. 🙂 — Suzanne
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