Thursday, 24 June 2010

Honeysuckle


The last time that the honeysuckle scrambled through the hedgerows, turning the evening air syrupy with scent, I walked through these little lanes childless.

I picked a fist-full of the sweet, spiky blooms and wept with helpless frustration.

My heart gaped with longing. The future looked dark and bleak. My mind told me to stay calm but my fears echoed in a deep chasm of the unknown.

This year, I'm walking between the honey-scented hedgerows with my babe asleep in the pram. The future is vast and bright.

I hope I never forget just how lucky I am.

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