People write far too much of rainy days, of moments encased in misery and misfortune, it paints the world in a palette not tinted by rose… but by the dampening darkness of dreary Mondays. But life isn’t like that; life can be a mixture of lava lamps and Yorkies, of memories saved and moments remembered. Days and nights of summer loving, but not the kind that requires an age restriction. Weekends with friends go down in history so great they could well be fiction. An age of park placed musicians and good conversation, a dinner with them and then back to the station, we said our goodbyes but no tears were shed, just one more week and together again. And the time that elapses in these days of absence were not even cold and alone, for due to technology that brought us together, when down we just picked up the phone. When planning the next great adventure the location was never discussed, we knew full well at what station that we would then walk to at dusk, the place we called home, irrespective of the town that we lived. A place filled with laughter, music, joy and all of the things that we did. Those days are gone but stand in good stead, the memories created will never be dead.
Posted on: Tue, 11 Nov 2014 22:20:09 +0000
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