He stands in the graveyard, head bowed, shoulders heavy with the weight of years upon them. Telling her his news, sharing thoughts and memories, whispering them down between the grains of earth.
He comes every Saturday to tidy her bed, lay fresh flowers at her feet and warm the cold stone with his touch; it all helps to keep her close.
He always wears the tweed jacket she liked so much;
but it’s too big for him now.
Like their house; his daughter keeps saying he should come and live with them but that would mean leaving her;

16 thoughts on “SOLITUDE

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