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Weekends In the afternoon sun the asphalt road shines like an ice rink; flanked by green trees that cast black shadows, helped by the breeze they flutter slightly, soundless articulation a symphony for the deaf My memory brings me the aroma of curried chicken and rice, but since it is Friday, it will be smoked haddock, boiled potatoes and stewed carrots Still a twenty minutes drive, before getting home, shadows merge with the evening and the ice rink is a memory

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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