Riverglade

Flamingos dance on biscuit tins, floral china cups chink in the breeze.
Homemade marmalade, oozing over toasted doorsteps as the wisteria blows in the wind.
The garden gleams white like a faraway beach, the mountain looms in the distance, ever present. Waiting..... for the tiny footsteps to ascend, to leave behind the muddle and the lost puzzle pieces, to unpick the web that suffocated, holding newborns, styling hair and holding on to numbers and words that no longer mean a thing.
Follow the white pebbles now that gleam .