One Perfect Place

The field is my secret sanctuary and I can only share it with those who clasp my restless, searching soul. The grass is taller than a jockey and I breeze through it to the centre, sometimes plucking a strand. Chewing the cud through my sun kissed lips, I chew the cud in my addled mind.

In the middle nobody can see me, nobody knows I am there save for the welcoming blackbird, whose song dances in the air with my spirit. Alone I drift and let the beauty of life’s randomness run through me whilst I bathe in stolen time. If I am with a soul friend, we may picnic, share love or simply throw grass darts towards blissful butterflies, aiming always close but never wanting to touch.

On three sides – trees and woodland, on one side a steam railway. Every thirty minutes the cha cha cha, cha cha cha of the dreamy engine is heard- a friend coming close. As it passes its clickerty clack wheels say ‘hello’ and its smoke puffs ‘good day, good day’ as it melts into the summer pufffed clouds.

The trains give me a calm melancholy- a nostalgia for an age I never knew, and I drive home dreaming of Art Deco.