Near the end of the month last month my youngest, miss 14, asked me if I would write with her. She had found a page of writing prompt ideas and wanted to have a go at it. We spent two evenings in a row going over the prompts and coming up with nothing we both agreed on as being easy for a first attempt. So I asked her to pick something on her own and let me know when I got home from work the next day what we would be writing about. She chose “sunrise”. Now that had not been on the list we had been reviewing and I asked her where the idea came from and she confessed she just thought it was a good idea.
So we both sat down to write. And we both drew huge blanks. That’s when I went into mom mode and started asking questions. I asked if it could be a poem. I asked what the word count should be. I asked if the prompt was just the word sunrise or did she want to add something else. She said she didn’t care. I started out with an absolutely dreadful, overly done poem. I was trying way too hard. I walked away from it for a day and went back, edited it some changed it from a poem to a paragraph style. UGH! It still sucked! I then left it for another 2 days waiting for the weekend. (good excuse right?)
Here is what I finally came up with:
The sun rises welcoming a new day, painting the sky with hope. Like a bare canvas it echoes with the promise of new beginnings. The canvas of sky has been brushed with hues of night, and dawn, blending together in a rush of breathtaking colour. Tendrils of nectarine and cranberry sweep across the deep blue of night slowly brushing it away. The yellow fingers of the sun splay and stretch, reaching out to sleepily greet the world, and the chorus of a new day beginning rises through the voices of thrush, sparrows and chickadees, all of which are gathered to bask in the glow.
The cries of gulls are shrill against the sky beckoning the new day alongside the occasional cock’s crow. The seaside town begins to wake and rouse itself. Curtains are drawn and windows opened, to allow in the light and fresh breeze of morning. The scent of coffee and sweetbreads waft through the air. The bustle of children and men readying themselves for the day ahead, while women start to get busy with the daily chores, breakfast and laundry and the beating of rugs. One cannot waste such a clear morning, perfect for the drying of sheets and the refreshing of stagnant homes.
206 words, still overly done but it has been awhile since I have sat down with the purpose of actually writing. I see that it is easy to become rusty. I wish that life did not get in the way of the things I enjoy doing. And I wish that I did not allow myself to get so easily swayed.