The memory of her father was a blur.
She recalled him being flinty and austere;
to even get close to him, she felt as if she’d
have to scrape the barnacles from his rough keel.
So Prudence retreated into her sterile cocoon,
an attempt to bolster her burnished and brittle heart.
But her torrent of tears drenched her bodice,
leaving a taste like chalk on her tongue.


The SUNDAY WHIRL – Wordle #58


  1. Walt – spare- stripped-yet brimming with emotion- “leaving a taste like chalk on her tongue” a truly excellent piece. By the way I am a major fan of this new blog format.

  2. Sadly, this feels too familiar. I think too many children want more than their fathers seem capable of giving when it comes to fatherly affection. Well done expressing that tension and feeling of abandonment.

  3. I like this, Walt. The second, third, and fourth line concise, yet such a full portrait of the father and of their relationship. You used the words differently from most and they are refreshing to see in this setting.

  4. Very well defined relationship. Made me so very grateful for the one I had with my father. I was his fishing buddy and his partner in crime (sneaking off on Saturday mornings while siblings were left to do the cleaning chores). Even though sad, it brought back some of my best memories from childhood.


  5. I am sad for Prudence and the poor relationship she had with her father, which will have an effect on her for the rest of her life. Well wordled, Walt!

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