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The Play Ground

Photo copyright: R B
Photo copyright: Roger Bultot.

In and out of the weeping willow trees he went, wandering like a lost spirit. It was as if he was a puppy, just tasting the air. You know checking out those interesting spots. It was as if he was wrapped in the fine tendrils of kelp, drifting in the ocean. But the bad lands awaited him. For he left his paradise and headed out over swathes of grass, past signs which said Keep Off. All the colours of the rainbow lay before him, as the parks gardener shouted can’t you read lad. But he could neither read or hear.

Happy new year readers, todays story is from my memoirs, I was about five years of age, and rather deaf.

This Post Has 57 Comments
  1. I really liked this one. I didn’t picture a child, but a full grown person so lost in the moment that nothing else in the world mattered…. Thank you for that moment of peace. It was much needed and a pleasure to enjoy! Happy New Year, Michael.

  2. You sound happy in spite of the disability. But I have heard that the absence of one sense intensifies the others. Maybe that is why you are such a fine writer.

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