Oliver

      I watch the children play on a sunlit afternoon. Willow trees slowly sway in the breeze without care. Water bubbles up from a nearby spring and trickles down into a small pool. The scents of earth float on the breeze.

      Hours drift by, and soon the sun begins to set. The weeping willows reach down to touch me lightly on the head. I gently shake their hands as I pass by. Birds whistle and tell stories as the rustling of branches hisses a soft song.

      And soon, I return to an empty house where I can still here the lonesome howling of an old hound. I hear the faint laugh of a jolly old man inside my head, and I smile.

      The memories may be old, but they'll never be forgotten.