Saturday, June 24, 2017

The Ceiling Fan

I used to sit at the foot of the bed, drinking, listening to the ceiling fan, looking at the floor.

Ants running around frantically, working, living a life, full of purpose.

Then she would caress my back, gently, with top of her soft fingers and asking me, “what are you thinking about sweetheart?”

And I always used to say, “I would be so lost without you”.

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