Once, a Summer.
It was a special Nordic summer, its night wasshort when wal
king home to change and goto work, no one about so early, but a cat going home after a night of murderous pursuits, thereit will drink a saucer of cream, curl up on a sofa and its owner would never know what a vicious killer she had in her house.
I was in love, the taste of her still clung to my hungry lips, it was the best of times to be in love and after work I would see her again and again;she was so lovely this morning, and in her brown eyes I read nothing but true love-: “Come back soon darling,” she had whispered by the door, before gently closing it.
She wasn’t there that evening: “gone to anothertown to work,” a neighbour said, “with a manin an Oldsmobile car,” (and in her brown eyes I read nothing but true love.) The night misted hasting towards autumn, trees shed green leaves, and as cooling rain drizzled my short summer of innocence was over.