Running through the rain, caught in the storm. The weather was suppose to be fine. We’d set out from the cabin in summer clothes. Clothes that now clung to our bodies. A thin veil of modesty.

We shield from the downpour in a derelict building. Pausing for breath inhale the scent of nettles and wild garlic, an aroma fresh and lifting. We look, share a smile. Away from the hustle of town, from the goldfish bowl of urban life. We’d made it.

Reaching for your hand we stand close together listening to the rain, drumming gently on the corrugated roof. Standing on tiptoes, I lean toward you. Then a crack and a flash, lightning hits.

We stay for a while, watch the sky dance. Watch the crescendo reach it’s peak. Clear the air and move away. The world awakes anew.

No candles

The buffet sits beneath a veil of clingfilm. Children run as parents talk in hushed voices. Milling in swarms, not their usual crowds. The celebration, or whatever you wanted to call it, brought them together. Unknown cousins and long lost aunts flock together, hurded by grief.  After a suitable time, not sure what for, the filmy veil is lifted. Guests tentatively pick at the body of food. Not wanting to indulge in their hunger, for the pain. Looking at the party I half expect the cake and the candles. But there are no candles today, your flame’s extinguished.