March 20, 2019 by The Citron Review
by Helen Chambers
We marry in a blur of froth; Queen Anne’s lace dancing our tune, and unfurling fiddle-heads waltzing us in. May blossom scatters limp like confetti, horse-chestnut candles light our way, pollen perfumes the air. Near and far, a nightingale chorus calls and responds, punctuated by cuckoo spit and sound. We wed beneath the green glowing canopy of May-light where miniature leaves-in-waiting flutter hopeful in fresh swift-riven skies. Drinking cool from deep bluebells, eating nectar from buttercups, dappled sunlight summers our honeymoon. As foretold, jealous Autumn twists you tired and yellow. You corkscrew away. I rust blood-red, alone.
Helen Chambers is a flash and short fiction writer who likes taking long walks seeking inspiration by the river where she lives in Essex, UK. She has an MA in Creative Writing from the University of Essex, and is the 2018 Fish Short Story winner. She blogs at HelenChambersWriter.wordpress.com