Twilight

A few words inspired by this week's Sunday's Whirligig.

For my dual contribution to The Sunday Whirl and Sunday Scribblings 2 please click HERE. Thank you.

‘twas twilight. A white steed munched upon tufts of green grass on the bank of a rippling stream. A limp wet body lay in the shallow water, one wrist held high, knotted in the steed’s reins. On an expressionless face, its pale cheeks were grazed and bleeding. As darkness fell, a sense of loneliness pervaded the scene.

It was daybreak before the steed was discovered, alone. The only sound was the sorrowful cooing of a pure white dove perched upon  a branch hanging above the spot where the body had lain.

Let me read it to you. Just click on the green arrow.

Feeling a little sad today as The Brewers Arms, the historic pub that was my home, my business and my life for many happy years until not long ago has been gutted by fire. Today will be the first day in over 270 years that beer will not be served.