we slept like dogs
down by the fireside
or woke to the fog
where all around us, the boom of summer died.
hot sand on toes
cold sand in sleeping bags
i come to know
the friends around you, are all you’ll always have
smoke in my lungs
all over the echoed stone
careless and young
free as the birds that fly, with weightless souls.
(Ben Howard, Old Pine. One of the loveliest songs I’ve ever heard).
Painting by moi, watercolours on 300gsm arches paper.