“Am I loved?” she asked wonderingly, throwing back hair, sultry under silken shawl scrutinizing her groomed shimmering form. He walked glancingly past a mirror then stopped to take a more admiring look. “Darling?” Reluctantly she turned from her reflection against the dark sky; he tore himself from his dashing figure. “How asinine, dear heart,” he ejaculated. “To love oneself is most divine!” Embracing by mirror and window they stood, idols with eyes of glass.
Jude's The Saturday Symphony #14: "Romance"
Sammi'sWeekend Writing Prompt: use "Asinine" in prose or poem with exactly 74 wordsCyranny's Word of the Day Challenge: "sultry"
The late heather blooms In wild array, scent chill fogs Fall’s breeze, through mists, bogs Take hold of moors, mount the heights, Stay, watch summer’s sweet demise.
Image attribution: wikipedia
Written for Jude's The Saturday Symphony #13:"Rhythm of Autumn"
-- Let us go retro this week and share a thought on the season, with rhyme and flow.Sammi's Weekend Writing Prompt: Using the word "Heather" write prose or poem in exactly 27 words