John Stokes

The evenings are the best time for John, he likes the dusk, shutting out the horizon for the night. It made the fireside so much more cosy, and when the wind blew across the eaves outside, he felt even cosier in his soft, warm, crocheted shawl that his wife Anne had made, seemed like yesterday..
Sometimes John would sit on the stairs, by the window, and look out at the view up the lane, as though at any moment, she would come walking around the corner with her scarfe a'blowin' and her coat a'flappin', she was a wonderful woman, all heart, she was.
John felt the tear in his eye, but he wasn't sad at all, he was used to the drop of his nose, as he suddenly felt the pain of those long, lonely days when she was in hospital. And he wasn't angry anymore, because he felt the love even now, just as strong as when she used to laugh and slap his bottom with her oven-gloved hand.. He was a happy man, he had the memories, and the love.. so when the kids in the town called out, and the women in the market had a natter, he wasn't bothered, they were only innocent little people, they didn't know what to do or say..
John wished he was able to talk to others, but he only had time for Anne, and even though she was long gone..  he still loved her so much, that it wasn't a problem that she was gone.. the problem was.. he was still here, and he couldn't change that just now, being as he was so content with his loving memories, and his soft, warm, crocheted shawl, that his wife Anne had made, seemed like yesterday..
Sometimes John would sit on the stairs, by the window, and look out at the view up the lane, as though at any moment, she would come walking around the corner with her scarfe a'blowin' and her coat a'flappin', she was a wonderful woman, all heart, she was.
John felt the tear in his eye, but he wasn't sad at all, he was used to the drop of his nose, as he suddenly felt the pain of those long, lonely days when she was in hospital. And he wasn't angry anymore, because he felt the love even now, just as strong as when she used to laugh and slap his bottom with her oven-gloved hand.. He was a happy man, he had the memories, and the love.. so when the kids in the town called out, and the women in the market had a natter, he wasn't bothered, they were only innocent little people, they didn't know what to do or say..
John wished he was able to talk to others, but he only had time for Anne, and even though she was long gone..  he still loved her so much, that it wasn't a problem that she was gone.. the problem was.. he was still here, and he couldn't change that just now, being as he was so content with his loving memories,and his soft, warm, crocheted shawl, that she had made....