Quarrelling voices rise through floorboards
warped by age and shifting subsoil
transmuting bedrock to deceitful quicksand.
Fever waxes humid and flickering sleep
conjures a scene in monochrome. 93 more words
I must have been there hundreds of times. In years gone by I would go there two or three times a day. For those of you thinking ” Aye Aye, he doesn’t even own a dog” , I had far too many opportunities to mountain bike before my broken back and lack of talent accident. 448 more words