Two in the morning, inside the cottage all was still.
Bugs stared into the fire, mesmerized by the pulsating glowing embers, the silence, the warmth.
A man fell,his lifeless body face down in the mud.
A Man who only that morning had rolled a smoke and made us chuckle as we sipped our tea. Gone.
Thousands of deaths, thousands of thank’s, all you want is to be spared a thought.
You’ve got it!
Categories: Burning the Midnight Oil