The River Banks


The river.  Just a small body of water.  The banks steep.  My world on one side.  Theirs on the other.  I gaze out through these cloistered windows at the lives led beyond them.  A man walks through the park with family and friends.  A picnic yesterday among the trees, with children at play.  Sometimes, I watch an old man sit and feed the ducks.  His hands shake from age.  Perhaps they shake from the liquid he finds in the bottle he presses to his lips.  Sometimes a young girl brings her school books and contemplates the blue, blue sky while watching passers-by in front of her.  After a while, a young man meets her there.  They touch and laugh.  Her face lights up in his presence.  I wonder about these lives.  I imagine myself as one of them on occasion.  Blasphemy, I know.  But sometimes I do wonder… What are the river banks protecting me from?

Copyright (C) 2018 Penny Wilson

  • Just a bit of imagination here.  This was prompted by Frank’s Tuesday Photo prompt. If you would like to join in on the fun, you can find out all about it HERE.

13 thoughts on “The River Banks

  1. Love this Penny… it could go on further. Why is the narrator segregated? Who is the narrator? ‘cloistered windows’… is the narrator imprisoned somehow? Oh the questions! A tantalising piece indeed.

    Like

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