Long narrative prose



She hung her head in a lime colored room staring into the glass as she watched the small Amber waterfalls off the icebergs in the Crystal they ran up and down like rivers in her dreams her dream world flashing between the couch and the sky trying to distract her panic

He sat there staring at her her month and the tiny movements of her lips 

she spoke to her glass and rolled it the movement of her fingers sinerining him as if she was on the Rock calling to Ulysses. 

She saw him

Author's Notes/Comments: 

She ran her hands around the glass up and down the cube is the water ran like I don’t know

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Stephen's picture

Long narrative prose

I think there is a very good poem hidden in this narrative.  Stephen

djtj's picture

Funny you should say that.

Funny you should say that. This is the genesis of a long verse poem I am working on. I found it in my phone notes.  Click on the narrative in progress folder to find the poem. I think it’s titled long narrative. 

I’d love your opinion on it.