by Helen Chambers
Here, rain splatters on the windows and seeps cold around my ankles. The dark is spreading and the light is departing. People slump in front of screens and turn their backs away from the weather.
There, we walked with a spring in our step and our hearts on our sleeves, and opened our faces and minds to the sun, watching each other in its golden glow. Channeling its energy, we lived summer outdoors like the elements.
Here, life trudges alone with a chill and a shiver, winds whip me round corners, desiccated leaves scrape my face. I cannot bear to stay indoors, but the cold drives me in.
There, we slept out under a light show of stars and meteors, watched sunsets, smelt honeysuckle and tasted salt spray.
Here, damp leaf-mould muffles my steps, and your words turn to dust.
I want to turn the clock back.