Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Rainy Day ... Dream Away




Rainy Day ... Dream Away

This morning, I woke to the sound of rain.

It wasn't the pitter-patter sound of a light summer's rain on a tin roof. It was more a swooshing sound as waves of rainwater splashed against the window.

For a moment, one of my deepest fears seemed to have come true. I was living underwater.

I believe that I must have drowned once, possibly in a previous life. I suspect that I was a pirate of ill-repute, a dastardly fellow with a yen for gold and aristocratic women wearing billowing crinolines. Not Jack Sparrow or even Jack Robin. More likely, Jack Turkey-Vulture — a scarlet patch over one eye, the left, I think, and a crimson turban on my head — forced, at the end of my reign of terror on the high seas, to walk the plank somewhere in the azure waters of the Caribbean.

Sounds incredible, I suppose. But who knows? Perhaps, you and I met in that former life. Perhaps, it was you who poked me in the back with your scimitar and forced me along that short wooden plank to perish in the deep.

Damn you ... I was having such an exciting life.
 







 








 
 


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