It was in the park that we met.
Autumn had coloured up our feelings of fellowship,
and our respective memories stretched out on retractable leads,
both faithful dogs, sniffing each other’s bottoms,
searching for recognition and significance.
Their leads became entangled
as coincidences floated down from the trees,
shedding the dry brown, enthusiastic red,
and precious gold from life’s storehouse.
Our histories began to play with the rough and tumble of coincidence,
and to ease our wondering we each threw a ball
as far as possible into that green future,
and let our dogs scamper through the carpet of possibilities.
© 2015 Peter Young
(Another 100-word exercise set by the Creative Writing group.)