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The Passing of Time

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The Passing of Time

My body aches, after years of “beating it up”.  I give in to the grace of gravity.  I do not live these days in wonder or fear.  Yet, a baby’s breath can take mine away and these troublesome times can instill fear in me for the future of this wonderful world.  My spine tingles in the presence of a gentle man both young and old.  I know that the passing of time is like a cool wind on a hot summer’s day, I no longer count the hours or days.  The thought of a new love still makes my heart soar.  It is the precious moments that I allow to linger. 

©2017.annjohnsonmurphree

 

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[This writing is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.]

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Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree

 

 

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CANCER RUN

This post is about helping my son fight for Cancer.

https://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/chuck-murphree/living-journeys-half-marathon

Image may contain: 1 person, sitting, ocean, outdoor and waterChuck Murphree

 

LIVING JOURNEYS

Living Journeys Half Marathon
7/29/2017
Mt. Crested Butte, Colorado

Chuck Murphree’s Page

Thank you for visiting my fundraising page!

Donating through this website is simple, fast and totally secure. It is also the most efficient way to support my fundraising efforts.

 

 

 
 

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For Brian…

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For  Brian…

All is quiet accept the music in my head, remembered from something that was once so beautiful, now dead.  In the end, you were easily broken like glass, you touched my heart, and how was I to know that our time would so quickly pass?  My heart, blessed by your hands and your eyes, oh so dramatic, yet wise.  When you left, my heart became rigid with each beat, painful when I would see lovers kiss on a hushed city street

These memories are like arrows in my heart; nothing but death could have torn us apart.  Now I am old, and I dream of a time when my heart was not filled with such sorrow.  When the sunlight falls upon my pallid face, I close my eyes asking God to take me away from this mourning place.

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All is barren accept the music in my head, remembered from something that was once so beautiful and sweet.  Soon I will feel your breath upon my cheek, as we stand side-by-side, on a far away shore walking Heaven’s golden streets forever more. 

FREE KINDLE:  ECHOING IMAGES FROM THE SOUL  FEBRUARY 10 – FEBRUARY 14

 

 CLICK ON COVER TO READ OR GO TO AMAZON TO OBTAIN A FREE DOWNLOAD.

©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree 

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Choices – A 100 Word Story

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Choices

A roar of thunder melds with a coming storm, Tom Thornton’s heart is stone; he knows that because he feels nothing.  His wife’s veins once flowed with a passionate fire; now the crimson liquid spread across the floor.  Doors locked, a decision had to be made and quickly.  His life also ended when he would not let Sarah leave.  His heart will never soften; he will never feel the heat of Sarah’s fire again.  The police and ambulance sirens filter into the house.  He sat on the bed asking, “God, will I go to Heaven if I choose to die”?

 

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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Unyielding Heart – A 100 Word Story

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Unyielding Heart

Amy Dumont woke begging the world to stop; today her memories did not fill the emptiness left in an unyielding heart.  Her plan was to seal shut the door on life, quietly fade away.  She asks herself how others survive.  At times, she knew that her soul peaked over her walled up heart wanting to escape or be found.  She walked up to the grassy mound laying upon it a single yellow rose, softly she touched the headstone tracing the words Andrew Dumont; then looking to the sky she watched clouds part and said to herself  “Be patient doubtful heart”.

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

Amazon.com

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Posted by on July 10, 2016 in 100 Word Short Stories, Death, Depression, Life, Love, Memories, Prose, Short Story, Writing

 

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The Light of Day – A 100 Word Story

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The Light of Day

 

She was born in the spring; a soft wind blew across the tall grasses.  The rising sun promised spring, the warmth welcomed.  The sun was setting when her soul begins walking in the deepest valley, her breath stilled.  Her father took her to the nearby creek, washed, wrap her in a soft cloth laid her beside a large boulder, and fell asleep with a prayer on his trembling lips.   As he wraps his baby, he gave her a Chippewa name that means “The Light of Day”.  As the sun rose, he woke to see the baby moving.   Abedabun was alive. 

 

 

 

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

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Books at Amazon.com

Coffee Table Books – 8 X 11

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On a Blue Bird Day

It is spring, warm breezes float through magnolia trees.  A gracious woman of the South rises from past memories; her thoughts behind the ice blue eyes. She sits on the bank of a pebbly brook under a Blue Bird sky, the scent of lilac rises from her starched dress.  She dips her fingers slowly into the cool water; she is old and life has passed her by, and the depths of her truth never known.  In her secret place of selfishness her hate for an unwanted child; she stops to ponder her own question; does she deserve the name “Mother”.

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

 

 

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