Thursday, 6 April 2017
Dreaming of the past
Her name was Ingrid and she had long blonde hair that she flicked from her face as she grinned at me in class as I tried not to respond as I knew the teacher watched us like a hawk.
When we got out of school she wanted to take me home and show me her house and meet her mother so she held my hand which was soft and warm as she eyed me all the time as though I belonged to her.
Theirs was an old cottage with a beautiful garden and she told me her father worked on an estate as the head gardener and I could see why because it was immaculate.
So we burst through the front door and I was introduced to her mother who smiled with pleasure that Ingrid had brouight home a friend from school so gave us a drink and told us to go out into the back garden.
It was magnificent there as we made our way through a thick conifer hedge with an arched entrance that led into a wonderland of winding pathways, ornamental ponds, shaded bowers and flowers blooming everywhere.
It was magic; bees were buzzing butterflies flitting amongst the flowers and Ingrid was still holding my hand as she then turned to me and out of sight of the kitchen window she kissed me on my lips and that kiss I have remembered for the rest of my life as I sit here in my retirement home dreaming of the past.
Image found at www.pinterest.com