Three Minutes Holding Your Nose

Normanday #32: Say this three times fast: There’s a sock in my junk drawer and junk in my sock drawer.

Last week we found a broken violin bow in Bigfoot’s junk drawer. Let’s see what else he’s got in there. Write for three minutes about…ew, it smells…

…a holey argyle sock.

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day June 17 (put “Norman Would Look Great in a Pinstripe Suit” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Here is the only entry from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…

…the broken violin bow from Bigfoot’s junk drawer.

Cranberly

A song from a broken violin bow

What should I do with myself now?

My life is over or so it seems.

My purpose is done, I don't know how

I can move past my dreams.

My strings have snapped one by one

I am useless to the core

The violin sits with song unsung

Silent for ever more.

Picked up, I am moved into a bag

Perhaps to be thrown away?

The strings I have left start to sag

Sad I am leaving today.

What's this? Not into the trash I go

but into the hands of someone new.

He is putting strings upon my bow

Each one is perfect and true.

After I am fixed I go back home

Back to my violin friend.

We get to make music, beautiful tones,

Never to fear a musical end.