Three line tales: Let them eat cake

This three-liner is for Sonya’s weekly photo prompt.

Photo ©Stephanie McCabe


The baker’s window, with its display of fancy patisserie, always attracted the tourists, but they weren’t free with their spare change, too afraid of being mugged—as if only rich bastards have spare change to give away.

When the sun moved round, he’d follow it to the other side of the street where there was a supermarket and ordinary people who wouldn’t mind slipping him enough to buy a sandwich.

He looked down and met a pair of brown, questioning eyes and glanced contemptuously at the grinning, self-satisfied cakes in the window. “We don’t even like that crap, do we?” he said, with a half-smile and bent to scratch his dog’s ears.

Secret Keeper’s poetry challenge

The Secret Keeper’s prompt words this week were:


The first poem I wrote was this, very short one.

No stony heart


There is no stony heart,

So strait, so strict,

It has never a flaw,

That the notes of love’s sweet song,

Cannot part and enter in.


Then I realised that by tweaking one word (substituting a synonym for ‘strict’) the poem I was already working on fitted the prompt pretty well.




Leaf drifts earthwards,

Slowly, slowly,

From the mother branch, black ’gainst the sky.


Sky fills with snow falling,

Softly, softly,

Sailing a sea of stone-grey cloud.


Clouds break and scatter,

Silently, silently,

Gold-seamed, ink-swirled, riding the wind.


Wind from the north blows,

Wildly, wildly,

Shaking the last gold from winter trees.


Trees filled with birds singing,

Sweetly, sweetly,

Every note so flawless and true.


True to yourself, you walk,

Stiffly, stiffly

Striding through snowflakes, birdsong, heartbeats.


Heartbeats and song echo,

Joyfully, joyfully,

For I walk beyond sadness in the gold-seamed sky.