A walled garden
Watery grey eyes tired weary, rage abated.
Memories of a life fought-through the ghosts of the past awakening heavy sodden regret. Hands as rough as stone.
Heavy grey once best coat, pockets bearing dusty small change gritty to the touch.
A life hard lived a life of aching limbs and long tired journeys. The future fighting each day unsure that’s all now gone.
I would love a garden with a wall round it.
He was indeed a garden with a wall around it .