Ball

I hit an obstruction and move across the garden to try another patch.

Bluebells. Grape Hyacinths. Violets. Lime green leaves on shrubs. It really is a lovely time of year. New growth. Birds sing with delight as I sink my spade into the sun warmed earth.

It’s Bin day tomorrow. It’d be easier to drop the ill named Lucky straight into the wheelie bin. I look up and see the children. Tear stained faces, noses pressed stickily against the window. One still clutching his ball.

Watching. Double glazing seals in the wails.

I’d promised a proper burial. So I dig.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s