Those were the idiot days when the long nights in Summer came upon me and light the winds blew, dew in the mornings to dampen the ardour, but we always knew that wasn't true.

And August ran quickly along the pathway to meet me in colours as bright as my eyes could take in.

There's a sin in not seeing or feeling these moments
they only come once and then they are gone,
September, October and life's nearly over, fireworks in November I remember them well.

December for the end of it, by the tree and the fairy lights with the faces of the family, etched by those ghostly sights that appear in my vision...
..' Oh grandad' she says, 'it's a play on by Dickens'
okay,
One more Christmas carol and time for my sleep.