Walking through his forest of green grain slingshot trees, boughs stretching out in victory signs he was a young boy again.
Memories bustled around his subconscious bursting to be that ten year old boy again who was more likely to grin about a mishap than worry or sook.
He remembered a lot about his childhood.
He remembered very little about his childhood.
The polarity of such was not an abandonment or argument of this precious time in his life.
Simply for him there was one upside of the line and another hidden thinner underside.
Tiled scenes with dialogue tailored his unconscious mind with pin pricks of quieter voices in shadows that hid in between.
The day was fading into evening and as the sun took the warmth of the day away a scent hued the air.
He looked up and the light seemed brighter than it should have been, or was that the tip of some uneven feeling touching his thoughts?
He stood still.
A memory flinched and stung a pitch of dark tone, a face hung with eyes that did not blink in his mind.
His legs were running before he gave them command…..© K S Hardy 2010