http://slow.writerscafe.org/coquelicotfille The original writings of author Rachel en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776003293 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Watch the clouds move,An obsession with water. With wind. With wind and sunshine and water.Every morning I would pull off the sheets and leave by train to the river. I would strip off my clothes and throw them down on the low floating dock cast out in the Willamette. And then I would jump. An obsess.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/coquelicotfille/2111466/ The fragility of a life returned to sleep.An angel whispers in your ear.Time to leave behind the people you can’t keep.The fragility of a life returned to sleep.A guarded peaceful sleep, so deep.“Come with me” the angel says “do not fear”.The fragility of a life returne.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/coquelicotfille/1801453/ She stroked the baby’s head.With her tiny fingers, she played with his even tinier ones.She leaned down into his wooden cradle, her hair just meeting the mattress asShe lightly kissed his forehead.Straightening back up, she smiled andPulled the blanket back over his small body.She stood there .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/coquelicotfille/1801452/ Je ne sais pas pourquoi, mais j’adore…I do not know why, but I love...Clean white paper, untouched without a wrinkle; old typewriters; wind so fierce it shakes my old house making the beams creak and sway; rain; the soft sound of a thrumming dryer; used tubes of paint all crinkled and m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/coquelicotfille/1801450/ The afternoon was just beginning to transition to evening, giving the sky a beautiful dusty blue color.  People mingled about the plaza next to Le Musée d’Orsay.  As I left the museum hall I could hear the faint sound of a piano playing nearby.  Sure enough as I reached t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/coquelicotfille/1801447/ Some days I half expected to walk into the living room and find her sitting there like she always did, her blonde hair all messy, paper and pencils everywhere.  She used to always forget one in her hair and leave it there all day.Or I would expect to walk into the kitchen and find her standing .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/coquelicotfille/1801445/ Memories do fade,Like seasons in their due course.Clear images as they wereFade like flowers,Losing their bright colors,To weather and age.To weather and ageDo leaves lose their soft touchLike the loss of colorTo memories of old.To memories of old,Like autumn to flowers,Time tears their soft petals .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/coquelicotfille/1801444/ There was no light in the church.  The sun had set and the lights had been turned off, leaving an eery look.  Slowly, the congregation lit up, candle by candle, until the whole crowd of people were glowing.  The flickering light cast shadows on the walls and the faces of strangers.Pac.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/coquelicotfille/1798801/ The autumn air was pleasantly warm.  The city was alive with color and lights and an indescribable energy.  I crossed the cobblestone street from my apartment into Les Tuileries.  The trees were a beautiful golden orange under the lamp light, and in a distance I could see the Eiffel T.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/coquelicotfille/1798800/ It was a freezing cold morning.  The air was damp and cold, the sky a drowsy gray.  My oversized rubber boots rubbed against each other and squeaked as I followed behind my uncle along the dock.  The dock lurched and rocked as small waves came up and pushed against its side.  I l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/coquelicotfille/1798799/ She awoke with a start.  Her window was open, the curtains billowing. Light flashed as they waved, leaving strips along the walls.  She pulled the sheets off of her body and slipped out of bed.  Shrugging on her sweater, she left her bedroom.  She stumbled down the narrow dark ha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/coquelicotfille/1787983/ She pressed her forehead up against my arm.  She twirled a twig between her fingers, rolling it back and forth.  She hummed a soft lullaby while we laid there.  The blanket underneath, separating us from the dirt, smelled of chamomile and ginger.  The sun trickled through the den.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/coquelicotfille/1787982/ I sat with my bare legs over the edge, my ankles submerged in the water. The dock swayed with the soft waves that rippled from the boats far out on the lake. The old boards creaked with every rock of the waves. I let the wind pull at my hair as my thoughts trailed, my eyes staring blankly into the d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/coquelicotfille/1787981/