A Different Drum…


His feet bang and clang in a bat-a-rang sing-song style, while his heels heave heavy upon battered metal with no apparent rhythm.

His untied laces and muddy boot faces mark the derelict work shoes that are one size to many, but for a penny, they will just have to do.

But there he rests, up on top the chest,  with the handles to drawers planned for his comeback encore while his dad yells from the other room.



Three Line Tales #22

photo by Rosan Harmens – click here for full res version


Published by

R. Todd

I'm older than I think I am and younger than I feel. I'm stuck in the 80's but relevant to today (oh I hope that last part is true). I think I am more of an enigma than I really am, but somehow still confound those who try to figure me out (or they just look at me weird, so I infer that). And I really hate my first name. Husband, father, Navy Vet, UCF graduate, cat owner (translate.. slave), wannabe writer, and all around big kid who is stuck in an adult world. Overall, I just... um.. something to something, blah blah blah. And that's all I got to say about that.

3 thoughts on “A Different Drum…”

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