A bed of cinders under my feet ...

I'm reading The White Hotel - 

I've only a few more pages left to read -

My heart is twisted with anguish -  

I remember the dream I had last night - 

I was far beyond the border, one of many under a red sky - 

Ash fell from the clouds - 

How I'd longed to wake up from that dream - 

Now I hear once more the harsh voices, the barking of dogs - 

The grass under my bare feet becomes a bed of cinders - 

16.34

Wednesday 23 August 2017

The Old School House

East Stoke

Dorset