memory
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It was my tree, a pine or a type of a conifer perhaps. I didn’t care to ask the gardener its scientific name. I just knew it was mine. We met for the first time when I visited the coffee shop on the campus. It was a bright summer evening. The sun refused to set
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It is a Sunday morning; overcast, windy and lazy. It’s just that type of the day when you’d curl up on your sofa, sit cross legged with a mug of coffee and stare into abyss. The sun comes and goes intermittently but that doesn’t change the mood I’m in. Mother has plans for the day
Life and its Revelations 