Sunday, 2 June 2013

I often dream that my Father is still alive.
I often dream that we still live in the old house with the garden at the back.  We moved out of there seven years ago.  The site of our home was demolished 4 years ago, and in it's place a brave new building grows taller every day.  But you wouldn't know it from my dreams.  
I wish my heart would catch up, but it seems to keep its own sweet time. 

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