an old writer and his words

  • SOON

    They are coming for him and he is ready. He has been waiting for this moment for quite some time. It Isn’t what he wanted certainly, but now it isn’t something to fear. He knows that once they come, he will look back on it and regret the moments he spent being concerned. He will…

    Lou Faber

  • CERTAIN MORNINGS

    There are morningswhen I wishI could be the cat,sit in the corner,close my eyes andwatch the worldsuddenly disappear.The cat breaksmy reverie, purringthere is room for oneand this roleis all mine. First appeared in The Flying Dodo, Issue 4, January 2023https://fantasyfantasywave.wixsite.com/my-site/louis-faber-certain-mornings

    Lou Faber

  • WETLAND BRAVADO

    He was the smallest, thatis what drew you to him.Still, he had a certain bravadoa serious strut to his walk.Perhaps it was becausehis father was there, a protectorin part, in another part a challenge.He knew his mother was lookingso it became a matter of pride.He could imagine himselfa father one day, his own childrentrailing behind…

    Lou Faber

  • AT THE CAFE

    We sit acrossfrom each otherseparated bythe small tablethat teeters,her cappuccinolicking at the rim.My toes danceagainst hersand she looks upquizzically.I smile and reachfor her handtouching her fingersfeeling the fine silverof the rings on each.She pulls her handback and looksinto the richbrown sheen.I stare out the windowat the odd carlookingfor a spacein the overfull lot,then pullingback ontothe…

    Lou Faber

  • CABERNET

    I should pause for a momentand mourn the plump orbsvinaceous in the morning sun,torn free, placed in basketsand carried off to be crushed.But the cabernet beckons,its first sip telling the taleof the California summer,the oak having long forgottenthe tree from which it was cut,and I watch as the sunreluctantly retreats,a flaming farewell, the promiseof a…

    Lou Faber

  • IN A HIDDEN CORNER

    As stars go, of courseit is rather nondescript,small, middle agedstuck in a distant cornerof a not all thatimpressive galaxy. Yet each morningit sweeps the skystoring all of its kin,even the biggestand brightest, intoits own celestial closetwhere they willremain locked awayuntil it decidesit needs a restand lets them returnto once againpaint the sky.

    Lou Faber

  • MID MORNING SONG

    He leans against the walloutside the Prêt à Mangerwitting with his dogon the old Mexican blanketsthat look uniquely out of placeon a cool London morning.He sips the now fetid coffeein its Styrofoam cup,its Burger King logoand temperature warning.His hair is long, mostlygray with streaks of white,his beard whitewith swaths of blond, helooks as though hejust…

    Lou Faber

  • CIRCLING

    This morning as the bellsignaled the end of morning zazenthe whistling ducks took uptheir song, circling the wetlandas if inviting me to photograph them. They quickly grew bored waitingand flew off to a placeI do not know, can not imagine. Perhaps they will returnthis afternoon, circlein a duck like pose as I capturethem with the…

    Lou Faber

  • FACING

    The face in the mirrorwas surprisingly older today,and I can’t imagine that Iwill ever look that old,at least not for quite some time. I wanted to ask him howhe had aged so badly, but knewthat it would be bad mannersto comment on his appearance,so I smiled and he in returm. I suppose one day I…

    Lou Faber

  • LOOKING UP

    I have discovereda small advantageof slowly losingmy sight. Each daythe imagein the mirroris less clear, wrinklesdisappearand I don’tlook quite as old as I knowthat I am, andyou’re lookingbetter as well.

    Lou Faber