Monday, 25 March 2013
I Remember …
… Jack Frost`s spirographs inside my bedroom window: beyond lay the monochrome, muffled moors.
That day a flurrying helicopter came to take our pinch-faced neighbour to hospital; a what-a-lark soldier delivered bread – and then was gone into the sun-leached sky.
It was 1963 and my four-years-old self had forgotten the summer.
© Tim Scott
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