Pale Moonlight Memory

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For M.

  We know each other, now, only “on-line;” trading “Likes;” sharing memes, and the occasional message to say “hi.” But, when she posted a tweet joking about her pale skin, my memory took me back more than 25 years; to a tiny kitchen filled with bright moonlight; her naked body luminescent in the beams flooding through the window: glowing like some ethereal being caught, if only briefly, in an unworthy mortal’s sight. I recall the warmth of her flesh – an almost incandescent heat – when we touched, and the regret of a moment that can never be recaptured… except in my mind.

Six Haiku (August 2020 - March 2021)

By Bud Koenemund

Light
Your surreptitious

wave; an incandescent light

in a dreary day.

Declaration
I declare my love
to thee, for I know no way
but all or nothing.

Protection
I offer my heart,
and pray you will protect it
as I protect yours.

Duality
I’m the romantic
type who’ll write you sonnets; then
tie you to the bed.

Longing
I long to feel our
fingers intertwined, and hearts
racing as love grows.

Paradox
Slow motion woman,
you stimulate my senses
and quicken my heart.

A Fire Once Incandescent

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 word story

For Lindsay

  Rain pelted the umbrella spread above them. The droplets – furious and unrelenting – splattered against the black nylon, then joined in silver rivulets that ran over the edge to seek the ground. The couple, soaked from the knees down, huddled close as gusts of wind whipped along the gray concrete canyon, threatening their fragile shelter.

  Reaching the entrance of her building, they hesitated for a few moments, neither wanting to let go; each lamenting the drowning of a fire once incandescent. Recognizing her, the doorman fumbled his way into the maelstrom, extending his own umbrella, too late, as she ran past.