Sitting alone staring out the window at the frozen air and slate colored sky with every inch of the desk covered in stacks of paper like strata of life. Book shelves impossibly arranged so that no one would ever decipher the code of the last 30 years. Wondering
what happened, but knowing it didn’t just happen. It was the long road taken to this place where the bland stale toast
sameness of life had become boring and without sweetness or flavor. All of those years now behind and the
memories all that are left to mock. What to do now, hotshot? Now that this is all that has been
accomplished. All of this and nothing. Which drawer did you hide the bottle from
yourself in? Seems so long ago, but was really not given how many years it
kept you company. Let’s explore those drawers and see what can
be salvaged of the past. Let us toast you in memoriam…
r ~ 24Jan14
Apologies to Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892), and A.H.H.
And thanks to Diane whose Banner photo knocked this one loose.