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Post by smiffy on Aug 18, 2006 10:29:19 GMT
He's there again. He's there every week when I pass by. He sits on the lush green grass, watching the world go by. Always the same place. He looks like he's talking to some one, but no-ones there. I often want to go and talk to him, but I feel I might be intruding, also I don't have time. Thats the problem, isn't it? Time. There is never enough of it. We are always rushing, need to get somewhere, do something. No time to do it all. Not even time to speak, to say the things we should. Like I'm sorry, or I love you. I wonder if that's what he is saying now. I'm sorry, or I love you, or maybe I miss you. He has flowers, every week, fresh flowers beside him. I like to think he is saying I love you. I hope she can hear him. Perhaps he's talking to his son! He may be there saying sorry for not being able to help! Spending time with him. Well, I don't suppose I will ever find out. I'm too busy, he's too quiet. Lost in his own world. Always there, every week. Sitting on the cemetery grass. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I see this guy when I take tyg2 to his swimming physio. We pass by the cemetery, and he sits there, every week, every Wednesday. He's an old guy, that is why I like to think he is talking to his wife.
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Post by sarah on Aug 27, 2006 23:34:51 GMT
mmmmm like my mum used to. but now they are together. thanks Smiffy. x
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