You left an impression,
One I can’t quite get over.
I walk miles in our footsteps
Over hill and dale, in sun and shower,
Arms locked tight about myself,
Holding you close.
The trail goes cold,
Your impression fading.
Even as I hold on tighter,
The wind blows you away,
Your salt and scent,
The snare of your rumbling voice.
That one curl of chest hair
Widdershins and wild spins away
Beneath my searching fingers.
Centering myself, I throw my arms wide,
Spin deasil with the sun,
Letting go of the old to embrace new light.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2025)
The challenge? Write a story in exactly 6 sentences based on Denise’s one word prompt: IMPRESSION. Visit, comment, and write & post your own on SIX SENTENCE STORIES. The Café is open. Come as you are!
Valley of the Trolls 
You nailed this prompt! I enjoyed reading your story. Brava!
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Thanks, Muse. Glad you enjoyed!
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that one chest hair! … smiling. enjoyed this Liz, very much.
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It’s like that, isn’t it? Glad you enjoyed! 😁
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How well you described holding onto someone you cannot have. Be it through death or break up, loss is a very formidable foe. Well done, Liz.
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Thanks Violet!
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Locked tight, nothing new can get in. It’s good to open up.
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Excellent poem – very enjoyable!
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Thank you kindly, Chris!
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I like how this transitioned from arms locked tight to arms thrown wide.
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Thank you, Frank! Something to aspire to. 😉
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Widdershins: my grandmother always claimed it was unlucky. 🥰 Lovely poem, Liz.
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I’m glad you caught that…and important dimension to this rendering!
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