55 words about a Hobo – Flash Fiction

Sitting near the river, a brown bag in her hand, the obvious thought comes to mind, a drunk.

Someone had given her a two euro piece.  She bought a bread roll and a bottle of water, then went to sit by the water to have her lunch.  Homeless she might be, but not an alcoholic.

Written for: Written Words Never Die

Free Verse: Time’s End

Time’s End

After the darkest of nights,
The first sliver of light shows upon the horizon
Growing daily until it reaches it zenith
Then slowly ebbs – only the stars remain.
This is nature’s poetic metaphor, my friend
To teach us life’s most important lessons
Birth, Life, Death
Unending cycle
For all of creation
Until time’s end.

This has been written thanks to the photo prompt by Eric Alagan at Written Words Never Die. In 55 words (excluding eventual title) write about the phases of the Moon.