The Dream
The aggressively gray and dreary weather made it difficult to tell the time and, merely adding to Old Possum’s confusion, the hall clock was slow. And his pocket watch needed to be wound.
Warm and cozy in bed, under a pile of soft quilts, he had slept later than he’d intended to and had awoken around mid-morning, feeling groggy and grumbly.
While drinking his tea and contemplating a walk, Possum grasped at the details of his warm-and-lovely early-morning dream. But, as with most dreams, all he could recall were fleeting glimpses, of a meadow full of snowdrops and purple crocus.
(Mid-February 2024)
0 Comments