In Search of Oldton

Whenever I'm having a hard time getting to sleep, I close my eyes and take an imaginary walk around the garden in Oldton.

Around the back of the flowerbed... in under the beech trees... follow the red brick wall as it curved around the perimeter of the property... past the iron swing... down the musty dark path behind the potting shed... across the vegetable patch... touch the squeaky, leaky, flakey painted water pump... through the apple trees to climb up the compost heap where the rhubarb grows... a nervous peep over the wall into the graveyard...

By this point. I'm usually asleep.

Writers for the Future