Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Juliette

Her name was Juliette.
She had a sweeping smile
and wide eyes,
brown,
like those of a doe.
Her hair fell like a waterfall;
the cliché fit so perfectly.
A cascade, torrent, a swirling whirlpool
sucking me in to depths unknown.
The golden honey draped over her shoulders
was entrancing,
beautiful.
Oh, Juliette.
Had she been baptised in moonbeams
She couldn't have been more amazing.
The dancing shadows from flickering,
dimming,
streetlamps
cast an amber
glow that coloured her in
sunsets and reminded me of
flames. She was
stunning, and
dangerous,
Juliette.
Bright, a light for me to follow.
My way lit from the heat of her,
her smouldering eyes
and gleaming honey hair.

But soon enough,
the bus arrived and
on she got, away from me,
a drop of water,
one radiant drop
in a cold and punishing sea

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