Why did he take her hand?
watched in fascination as the couple walked away. I felt compelled to
follow. Furtive and soft limbed in my disguise of an elderly gentleman.
My bottle of elderflower cordial left behind on the park bench, even
though I had spent my last zloties on it, the bottle was cumbersome and I
desired freedom of movement. Travelling light , “Ascribe greatness to
my God” was the tune running through my head as my lips like a harp
began to move with the rhythm in my brain. Following at a stately lick,
my soft boots, so worn and loose like snakes in the grass, padded on
The spring snow left stains on the red leather, and as I
approached stealthily I heard the woman say “I’ve sold the painting –
there will be buns for tea”.
I wish I was invited.
The copyright of this post belongs to Valerie Anne Rule