absence

Relics
Going for a stroll, that’s what we did, come fair or foul weather. The dog needed his walk, whatever. And this was the game. Stop. Close your eyes. Tell me what you hear. The wind…

Always Here
Sparse grey hair, weathered skin, stained baggy trousers. His big toe pokes out of his right shoe, the left is split along the outer edge, the heel missing.

Winter Path
I never understood why he wanted to take that picture, it was so familiar; where a gate once stood, a chalk path leading across an open field.