The Taking of Toast and Tea
She poured me a steaming cup from a stainless-steel decanter in the Office.
"...the shadows, which are at morning and evening so large, almost entirely disappear at midday," she was saying comfortingly.
"I say, old girl, it all looks rather different to me," I retorted pleasantly, spreading my weight across the armchair.
She held up a platter of crumpets, and I stopped her midway with a declining palm of appreciation.
"I'd say it's the small shadows that get to us. The ones that creep into you just before high noon, and the ones that seep out, at that odd moment when you've taken notice of their apparent lack. Then again, maybe, neither of us are really afraid of the dark."
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Mid-life Eleanor Roosevelt challenge
Treadmill.
Walking and waking in my shadow that encases my dreams.
The father i walk away from you,the closer you seem.
Like walking toward a stranger,that seems to be walking away.
The closer I hold you that stranger seems to draw nearer with an uneasy sway.
The road is long,I can see you running back toward home.
It's where you belong,like the restitched welcome mat that you've become.
It's time for me to run 9itii9ii9wards a shadow,o wo⁹l9i9i9iiiiiii9i,the darkness purifies my lonely embrace.
The arms that use to hold me have disappeared with a faint trace.