We can see so much clearer when we watch others rather than ourselves.
Falling in Love or Watching It
I can spot a person falling in love.It happened last Saturday when Billy was playing.He held his lead guitar like he had been born with it.He shielded his eyes with dark glasses.And he hid his head with a baseball cap.
For a while, he sat on the wall behind the group, playing sullenly.He only stood when he needed to harmonize.
Then she came.
And his entire body tensed.He stood and he watched her every move; even when she wasn’t aware.Until then he hadn’t smiled; after then he couldn’t stop.
She sat with me and apologized for being late.Car problems, she groaned.And all the while, Billy watched her every move, her every word.
He has no chance of finding his heart again.She has it.
A beautiful story of young love that will never be changed.
I know because two years ago I lost my wife of decades, in death.
I am once again very interested in a certain lady who acts as if she couldn't care less. Maybe she couldn't, but I don't want to hear that right now. but, I err... you're the writer and this excellently told story is yours. Sorry. - Bill
Short but powerfully meaningful. In French it's called "le coup de foudre." Literally, it means "bolt of lightning. In English, it is "love at first sight." You've expressed this well here, Sharon. Thank you. Love and peace,
I lost my heart when I was only 14. Too young, you say? Puppy love?
Teenage marriages never last?
Next month we celebrate our 55th wedding anniversary! Of course, I'm only hanging around 'cause I'm waiting to get my heart back.
She's holding it there somewhere.
Ah, reminded me of me when I was first bowled over by a girl.
As a 17 year old at the time, I fancied myself as a wandering minstrel. I took my guitar with me whenever a small group of us went to a party in Edinburgh circa 1972. I tried to serenade any girl with the stomach to listen. I succeeded once - but bang bang Maxwell's silver hammer came down on my head - meaning, I made a mess of the chat up lines!
By the time I met the girl who became my wife , I had left the chat up lines to the girls and sacked the guitar - I could only play a minor George Harrison number anyway: For You Blue.
This pithy short story triggered fond memories.
Regards
Dai
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I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
