As they drove the last few miles, the wind grew warmer
And he closed his eyes, fixing his mind on that evening
When they celebrated with a party
Everyone was there that night, alive and well
Taking joy in each others' company
Never thinking that things would change so much
That fixed point in his head was where he ran to
When the days were cold and bare
Perhaps he repainted the colours every time he visited
But it was his to do as he wished,
For there he was truly, truly happy,
That one perfect night before his world crumbled
And everything turned to dust.
bobby stevenson 2015
www.randomactsstories.blogspot.com
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