Stories Collected While Living in France
The forgotten place
when the scent of roses fills the air
the window opens
the breeze dances with your hair
the chair that was the perfect place
by the fire, or next to the window for a hint of sun,
during late spring stands alone,
gathering dust,
sadly waits.
May your new armchair be decorated in the spirit of this one.
Take special care my friend.
How is Annie?
Lovely place, this chair in waiting. Sending a hug.
you are both in my prayers.
I’m not sure why I don’t comment more than I do, I so often mean to do it! I am concerned about you and Miss Annie. Take care- hugs to both of you
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