Creative Writing, Poetry

Ocean View

//circa March 2015


There was a view of the

Ocean from the

Third story workroom.


Candice and Jerome

Weren’t allowed up there

By request of their father.

They respected him enough

To oblige the simple request,


But their minds

Could not help from wondering;

As children do.


Their father was

Kind, gentle, and fair,

So they never did

Venture into that attic,

That third story mystery.


A party was to be had.

Mother had set out

The refreshments,

Delights for all her friends

To eat

And to drink.


Eight o’clock

Was the children’s normal

Bedtime, but it was

A party night, so

Ten seemed more appropriate

To greet the guests.


Candice drank

A lot of grape juice, and

Began to swirl,

Began to twirl,

Began to hurl.


Jerome rushed to find

Mother, but the grape

Tonic had gotten the best

Of her as well.


Father’s friend Carl

Told Jerome that

His father was

Alone in his study,

Not to be disturbed.


Mrs. Driscoll was

In the room with father,

Her pale skin

Shining in the moonlight.

Jerome had never seen

Father so angry.


The slap turned into a

Bruise within minutes.


Candice wasn’t awake anymore.


Jerome broke father’s one rule.

Father, subsequently,

Broke a few

Rules of his own.


The view of the ocean

Is nice from the top

Of the house.

When the third story

Came crashing down

Over the flames,

Jerome’s last view

Was that ocean.


No wonder father

Didn’t want to share.




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