Photo taken by Steven Ormosi with his Samsung Galaxy S3 and edited in G+. Click on the picture for a larger version.
Wicker Throne
In the garden out back there is a chair that my
mom says has always been there. Despite my skepticism, I can’t argue with her,
it’s been there all my life. When we were kids, my sisters and I would take turns
sitting in it and pretend we were queens of the garden. We had dominion over
all the flowers. Isabel and Rita liked the daffodils, and daisies, and tulips.
They would pretend to always be at grand balls and tea parties with the flower
people. I liked roses the best because they were the most dangerous and I would
pretend I was a protector queen. I would make those roses grow and their
thorns would defend the whole kingdom. All from atop my wicker throne.
I haven’t seen my sisters in almost 25 years. And
the throne is growing decrepit, just like mom. She lies in a bed upstairs
mumbling to herself and I take my seat one last time to try and protect her,
but the throne has lost its magic. I weep for my kingdom.
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