Little Moments

I really hope when I am old and grey, When my bright years are behind me and the grim reaper is preparing my grave, That I spend this...

I know the town that I live in far too well. You could blindfold me, take me to any spot and I would know exactly where you had placed...

We had spent the day in the cold northern air. Our fingers had frozen and our cheeks were red, yet as we sat by the fire, late at night...

I wasn't sure whether to post this in my blog section or my writing section but ultimately I think it belongs more as a 'Roe's Notes'...