My Diary: Part Of A Story I Kept Locked In A Box

I got up early and walked June round the edge of a black cloth being waved by a person who would never surrender.‭ ‬I watched her enter the open eye door and then came home with cheese graters as epaulettes‭; ‬saluting the one man willing to guard an open wound in the not quite frozen ground.‭ ‬After feeding the wagon train animals,‭ ‬poppy and I retraced the cavalry’s steps with a picture in my mind of Morris dancers on a cliff edge.‭ ‬We came back to the not too warm house and I played the piano in my head before having to go out again‭ ‬-‭ ‬I am sure the morning got colder before it got warmer.‭ ‬I thought of the Raft of the Medusa as a universal metaphor and joked with a habitual joker about eating the table instead of the plates of food laid on it.

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