The week after Christmas, and the skies had reverted to gun-metal. It was cold, and when I said good-bye, he turned into a crowd of people and I watched his back and then his head, and then the crowd closed around him and he disappeared.
Small Stone 20
Lost in the crowd, sad sad sad.
ReplyDeleteI read this and that being within that creates stories began scribbling away.
ReplyDeleteSO much said in those brief lines.
ReplyDeletethese are remarkable.
ReplyDeletexo
Is that Santa?????
ReplyDeleteLovely.
ReplyDelete