The Face in the Bar

How many tragedies does it take to change a person ?

As I was taking one of my irregular night walks, I decided to go through the busier quarter of town, which I typically avoid. Walking casually while looking into windows of buildings and doorways, I paused outside a local bar. There, through a large multi-panelled window, I could clearly see her sitting among some people I didn’t recognise. It being night, everything within was illuminated and despite the window being less than clean, I was sure of it. Her face had traces of barely discernible worry lines which you could see between her laughter and smiles in response to the conversations taking place around her. Only someone who knew her would know the worries that had created those fading lines.

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Watching Butterflies

Through glass doors…On a Saturday mornng

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Through glass doors
In my rented house’s ground floor
I lounge on my sofa watching butterflies
Flitting over and under verdant leaves
and in and out of the single unkempt deciduous tree
at the end of the austere and narrow, sun kissed garden.

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