A Face in The Crowd

A face in the crowd, is a face of a person that we all are.

We smile sometimes, and we frown the other times.

Dreams and aspirations, we hold in one hand;

and in the other we hold the baton of reality.

A face in the crowd is sometimes young and naive,

sometimes bold and confident,

sometimes ferocious

and sometimes marred by the rough edges of life.

No matter what they are; or who wears them.

Each has a story to tell, if looked deeper.

And still, each is lost far away in the ripples of time.

It’s a face in the crowd that we never meet again,

and still, we own them as we were the same.

Rose’s Roses

This is a story for Friday Fictioneers, which is hosted by Rochelle. Every week you are challenged to write a 100 word story based on a photo.

Thanks toMarie Gail Stratford for this week’s photo and also to Rochelle for hosting the challenge.

Thanks to all the readers for their time, too.

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

Why do roses have thorns?

Why do they smell sweet?

My garden blooms with roses, but why do I see you. Their fragrance embraces me like it’s you.


Our relationship had just started to bloom. Our bond was only getting sweeter. Each day as I sank in your arms, thinking we were strong; you knew, life’s petal was being plucked slowly from you.

Clutching garden scissors I ask, “What shall I do of these… you had planted them so well?”

I prune the dead ones. For the plants, I let the water seep into their soil that holds them.