Scribblings and squabblings

I was camping

I was camping..


I was camping, it was dark on a warm evening. There was a hole where memories belonged and had yet again escaped. I saw them briefly as I headed back to my fire. Just me, alone as always, well and the fire of course ever present until,

It faded from my sight like day to night at the dream of you. A real, oh so very real dream. You wore several shades of emerald green which clashed drastically with your blue eyes. Drastic eyes, I couldn’t escape the hold nor did I have the desire to. You could have worn purple shoes I didn’t look I couldn’t see beyond those eyes and I tried, I tried like death was knocking at both my doors twice and I’d left them unlocked. Yet I couldn’t move. Not through lack of trying. I clenched my teeth down hard and bid my brain to dare break free and it’s then, then that you took one slow step forwards. I’ll admit my outer vision caught a glimpse of your calf, It shone in the moonlight as silk emerald fell with the night time breeze. “Hi,” or something, you said as the lump in my throat prevented speech. Then you were gone amidst a million things and shadows of things that no longer matter.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2014


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