a little place. face the wall.
it is that.
i drive the route i took.
last time i saw you. we
are older now.
how appropriate that
it is a garret, they say
high roadside banks turn purple, those mountains mourn, rain howls bitter. taste biting memory. hear the wind.
even. when there is no wind.
a place to work.
wet here. gave up gardening at four. slates slippy.
looking forward. slightly anxious about the bus change as ever.
food. will eat most. small portions. do not drink alcohol nor drinking chocolate ever.
forget what else you asked.
shall like to walk about your area and go to a market. being with you both will be a treat.
bus times are the same. will text if we are delayed at all.
they talked about churches, that they were miserable places.
some of them. no heating.
planning champing ideals.
your turn to research….
sipped my coffee.
of the diocese, googled how to spell it. listened on the open
book, while here it is bound.
hidden in boxes.
i was sent to a psychiatrist, eleven years old.
what do you expect?
was told i was fine, given a bible.
what did i expect?
maybe something better.
this book is tied.
I gathered the bread and left.
I feel care and gentleness. Some people do not ask us of our early years in my experience, and though in the past, never so far away.
I wish I can tell it in a more orderly manner, each episode boxed in date order…..ha.
It is just facts yet I worry over false memories. Seems this week the past is become a theme. So we move forward sometimes looking back.
The tree man is here, and I have also started cutting back
in reality and metaphor.