A House In New Orleans

She always led me down that alleyway holding my left hand with both of hers, like a child, excitedly. It was awkward of course, and I did all I could not to trip in her feet. But she made small, quick steps, avoiding the overgrown weeds with learned skill. My heartbeat quickened as we reached the low gate, when suddenly sunshine would wash over us. It felt distinctly wild and Mediterranean, looking in where we shouldn’t, where old ‘mad’ Mr Winthorpe had set up his little animal grave. It was beautiful. Weeds and stones and love Planted with you all the above Your memories live