Grey clouds overhead, green grass waiting below, memories gather like clouds with the promise of rain. I sit alone among the graves wondering who these many people were. Have I ever met any of them?

I wish I could know about them. I wish that I could be there for someone in their time of need. I wish that someone would come along and take me from this place.

I do no recall the many faces of those I’ve met along the way but if I could I would tell them all what they meant to me.

So I am here alone looking back over the years. Where do I begin and where do I end when I keep repeating all of the years over in my head?

Categories: writing

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