Friday Sky, by Guy Fletcher

We sat on a bench in a city park, a million miles from the frenetic streets. The sun painted gold into her alluring hair from an azure Saharan sky, yet she had eyes as sad as a cemetery.

All of a sudden she escaped from her inner hell and caressed a pink blossom which had flickered down.

She squeezed my hand.

“Thank you for giving me hope,” she said softly whilst admiring red tulips and violet-blue endymion on this beautiful May day.

I wish these moments could have lasted forever, but they will always be remembered.

Friday Sky.

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