Drunkenly, I wend my way across the dancefloor
Tentatively, I reach for the door; it moves.
Blearily, I tried to decipher what is happening.
And then realise. Ah, a revolving door.
Not supernatural. Not just drunkenness.
A lucid explanation.
Now, to navigate through.
Weekend Writing Prompt #175 Megalith
The Megalith hums; vibrates
Preternatural; outside nature
It stands, immobile but reaching skywards
Unearthed, yet anchored.
Moss covered; blending
Of sandstone, bluestone, granite
Of limestone, basalt, marble
Solid, unyielding, impervious
Ritual and superstition
Hold communities in awe
Living history is here