Never Bluebells.

yes, there was a dog

The passing of one to another, years end and another’s beginning, it seemed like a good moment to reflect.

So she drove to the mountains, things would be clearer there.

Simpler.

On the road she listened to Mumford and Sons, it had been a long time.

It hadn’t been easy before, too many memories.

She had sent it to him, many years ago - in a different lifetime. He told her which was his favourite.

Later he told how he had driven home after laying flowers on the grave singing along to the CD on full volume, and the windows open wide.

Irises.

Never Bluebells.

He still goes to the grave.

He wonders if she still listens.

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