“Two berries, both cherries, hanging from a branch, it’s not much, but it’s a start” Gun Roswell
There are two of them left, just there, hanging by themselves, after all the others have gone, eaten perhaps or thrown off by gusts too strong, the rest plucked by birds, just for the off chances of fun.
But the two of there remain, looking exactly the same, as in the very beginning, remaining still there even if the high rain came, the two keep on, the colour never changing, always the brightest of red.
Nobody even thinking of picking them off anymore, simply letting the two berries to stay put there, as if they should, the reason unknown, guess it’s just because the all want to keep the myth alive, at least for a while.
“London just might be calling, but I ain’t fallin’ for that trap! Because you know, they left us, the union, so, guess they don’t want us there anymore?“ Gun Roswell
The doors painted bright red, as is the whole boxset, like an alarm or giant sign, they were there, a reminder of the good old days, where nobody would be glaring at their small mobile phone all day.
Placing calls, only if you could afford, a coin inserted to the slot, and on the dot, well, with some effort, fingers numbing from rotating the disk filled with long numbers.
And if memory had suffered a loss, then the only boss, was the thick of the phone book, with names and numbers written down, reading needing to be fundamental.
Still, now, they are a picture perfect reminder of what once was, as no modern day kid, can even realise, what effort it took, just to phone home, never mind chatting, netting or ‘graming the whatever each and every moment of the day.
“Roses are pretty flowers indeed, just remember them to feed, with lotsa sunshine, water and, lime?” Gun Roswell
Rose a pretty
Reddish rose, take a pose, then let me take a whiff with my nose, but keep those thorns, away before I get all scorned, and my insides torn, as I only wanted a little more, basking in the prettiness of it all, just a small moment to stall, and isn’t that all, a mere mortal can ask, not really a big task for such greatness to share, just as this one did dare to get close enough to glare.
“The weeds are in bloom now and they are quite pretty too!” Gun Roswell
Red, white, flowers or weeds, doesn’t really matter
They turned red, from the beige they were before, looking kind of bored, but now, the flaming colour, goes together well, with the setting sun of tomorrow, and no one would be the wiser, thinking they were simply weeds, discarded by most, just because, they were not the pretty flowery types right from the start. But now, they are reborn, having turned, into something totally great looking, delicate and fine, so, never judge, only wait until the end, and see, what turns up!
“Whatever it is, two is better than one, and then again, if you have two, why not three or more, after all, more is more, right?” Gun Roswell
Two or four, more is more? Or maybe not?
What is it with us and the fact that stuff keeps gathering up, in all the corners of the rooms of our homes, sometimes even chocking the whole office and bedroom, piles upon piles on top of each other, will try us to gently but surely smother?
Well, guess the old adage, less is more, has yet to reach the modern core, as the need for all things new and better, just is in sitting there, set in our current DNA, most likely to stay? Some of us maybe saying what the hey, when in Rome, but yeah, it’s the more that is definitely not the score.
So, if you see a low hanging fruit or berry, possible something like the pictured cherry, why don’t you simply try to settle for just two, and leave the rest there, for others to chew. Maybe it’s not so bad to just get the taste of it, rather than to try to overdo it with too much of the sugary goods? So, are you on board?
“Always watch out, and be on the look out, heightened state of alert, as something will always fall down!” Gun Roswell
There is always a kind of danger out there Lurking, waiting, wherever you will dare to venture But there is no need to get discouraged Especially if you ate your plate of porridge In the early morning before heading to the office Because it will give you special kind of powers And the streets you can walk for many hours Without any kind of fear of being run over Or getting hit by some force never seen before So, when getting to the store, buying some milk Or maybe even coffee, the taste being totally silk Do not worry, rather walk with a jive step forward Even to the bus stop, move like you wanna rock As the danger is an illusion, a fear from the past And so, with that in mind, well, move along fine But hey, just in case, take with you an umbrella It might start to rain!
“There is just something about a red painted bike. Perhaps the colour is a warning for those to step back as the sleek vessel slides across the streets” Gun Roswell
Red and bikes
There are so many to choose from, standing there, in the row, two wheeled rides made for the fun of riding around in the city centre wide. But they are mostly the same, part from a missing wheel or other possible dent, so no matter which one you choose, your few coins you won’t lose.
Motorised is the way to go, when the feet are taking it too slow, to peddle around in a the crowds, as the uphills might be a battle and well, even if the sweating would not really matter, it’s better to ride with an electronic device if your own too feet won’t want to carry its kind.
So, it might be discarded, then again not, as maybe this place is simply the parking slot for this small bike in red, as the owner had to go to bed? But, if you are daring to lend it for a short ride, please leave a note or something, to remind the keeper of the bike, it will be returned, just where it was found, right there on the ground.
“The colour so bright, this thing, totally, caught my eyes!“ Gun Roswell
The Red Trike
The painted fire red engine colour shining across the grey a monotonous basement of a parking lot, and it really wasn’t that difficult to spot, that totally gorgeous vehicle of a thing parked across a few dull looking four wheeled drives, so guess this tiny thing, just wanted to survive, the looks given by those big ass bullies, mocking its very existence, while missing a wheel, for instance.
“What the hell kind of a car are you anyway?” One suburban, one the larger side, with its wheels ever so large and wide asked, the tiny thing, huddled away now, in the corner to stay while, its driver was doing the shopping for the weekend, and some time away from this small trike spend.
“I am a trike, but weather proof!” The red vehicle replied, trying that, with a small smile, after all, this was its first time ever, in a great big mall, and to be honest, it really did not like at all, the banter, or rather hate talk, from all the others around there, giving it the scare.
“Oh, a trike huh?” A regular size car, commented, with a snarl, “Where does your owner, get to put all the haul, which they will most certainly have on them, as they come down from the shops.” It stated snidely as if it had some kind of revelation widely unravelled. “There is no real trunk or any kind of other place to put on all that junk, they will most certainly have scoped out, from all them shops and then bought, surely you can see the dilemma and the irony, of being such a tiny, tiny thing, despite the red armoury?”
The red trike thought for a moment, then with a loud huff and puff, it extended out its sides, making the body of it ever so wide, but with a large smile, a bit of an evil one at that, the red trike, showed off its assets quite nice, as the two, quite big tubes appeared, and as the very lids of them sprung open, the others, those even with snide remarks, could see now, clear as day, that this small trike, had a lot more on display, than what the spying eyes initially had seen.
“What do you think about my trunk now?” The red trike barked out, “Plenty of room for stuff and such, and even the rider, has leg space enough!”
No further comments were heard from the floor, as the vehicles just shut up and all their doors, as mocking such a tiny little red thing, seemed to have been a good pass time, before their owners would bring, all their shopping, filling the spaces and then some more, indeed, the little red trike, was the winner of them all, on this grey looking and dull day, at the shopping mall, then making sure the owner had plenty of space for all the stuff bought and maybe even some delicious s’mores.
“The Autumn is the most colorful season a pix snapper could wish for, as nature is positively glowing with brightly hued shades of all reds” Gun Roswell
Burning brightly with all kinds of reds
The fall of summer, did not turn out to be a bummer after all, as all the great colours, came out for the ball of a festival, arranged special, to celebrate the turning of season, surely a very good reason to do just that. After all, wouldn’t anyone get a tad bored, of all the green in control, over the whole of the summer, and it seems, they still are trying to hold on, despite the colder weather having a grasp of the nights long at last. But, that does not really matter as the fact of it is, that one without the other won’t exist, but, they cannot do so, all at once. So, in the natural order of things, each of them will have to take turns when they will their arias sing, as the cold blues and whites will own the winter time, the greenish tints starting from spring until summer and when the autumn finally falls, all the fiery best are released as the harvest feasts, turn all of nature to a mild wild fire of reds. And that is the joy of the season of fall.