Do two swallows make a summer?
My grandmother didn't think so.
The days are flying past in a blur.
August is crouching behind our door.
I'm still dreaming of summer warmth
and honeysuckle skies.
Of getting that old worn tartan blanket of ours
out of storage and lying on it in the grass.
All weekend there were dreams of sewing and reading
and catching up.
None of which materialised,
I walked around the house my mind filled with dreams
and faraway places.
My family came over last night
and before the night was over
my sister and her best friend had a rather heated row.
About a man. Grr.
I hated it.
( They are ok, they have been friends for 37 years and it's only the second
tiff they have had.)
I however felt conflicted and torn
and because I am who I am
I retreated into my own little fantasy world all day.
There,
no
one
ever
hurts
I do that too - whenever I read about something sad or sick in the paper. Or whenever people are rowing. I withdraw because I know otherwise my heart will break into a million pieces.
ReplyDeleteStill, 2 rows in 37 years is pretty good going! I'm glad your sis and her best friend patched things up.
AML
Kess
xxxx