Saturday, July 13, 2013

The truck drivers foot prints

It was a cold harsh night, even the warmth of the fire could not take the bitter ice mean from his words. "Get round , close up " he bullied. As I kicked away the stone holding the entry door open I saw his foot print in the snow. My bare foot gingerly stepped in.....taking comfort from what ever energy may be left there. The knowing he was here this day . His gentle voice only saying "sign here. And other days just talking of his family , the weather. His presence bore a Man of strength . I wore the warmth of his words through my life as a cloak. "What are you doing I heard husband shout". It felt as though he knew.

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