Steam train

Dear Wilfred,

Today is more like a note, rather than a letter. 

On Tuesday morning I dreamt about you. We were on an old steam train.

People kept getting off the train until it was just us. The train became a boat. Paul was there and we booked a stay at a little motel on the sea. Just like your home in Port Alfred.

This was to be our last trip together. I thought about all the last pictures that we would take as my eyes filled with tears. I looked around at the natural beauty and I could hear the animals speak.

You were your last age. Normally you are younger in my dreams. 

Goes to show that even when you know that death comes, it doesnt make it easier.

Sending love to wherever you are.

A

xx