A YORKSHIRE LOVE STORY
10-03-2011, 05:27 PM
#1
Senior Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: Aug 2010
Location: Qld, Australia
Posts: 984
An elderly man lay dying in his bed.
While suffering the agonies of impending death,
he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite scones
wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength,
and lifted himself from the bed.
Leaning on the wall,
he slowly made his way out of the bedroom,
and with even greater effort,
gripping the railing with both hands,
he crawled downstairs.
With laboured breath,
he leaned against the door-frame,
gazing into the kitchen.
Were it not for death's agony,
he would have thought himself already in heaven,
for there, spread out upon the kitchen table
were literally hundreds of his favourite scones..
Was it heaven?
Or was it one final act of love
from his devoted Yorkshire wife of sixty years,
seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort,
he threw himself towards the table,
landing on his knees in rumpled posture.
His aged and withered hand
trembled towards a scone at the edge of the table,
when it was suddenly smacked by his wife
with a wooden spoon ......
*
*
*
*
*
'Bugger off' she said, 'they're for the funeral.'
.
=
While suffering the agonies of impending death,
he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite scones
wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength,
and lifted himself from the bed.
Leaning on the wall,
he slowly made his way out of the bedroom,
and with even greater effort,
gripping the railing with both hands,
he crawled downstairs.
With laboured breath,
he leaned against the door-frame,
gazing into the kitchen.
Were it not for death's agony,
he would have thought himself already in heaven,
for there, spread out upon the kitchen table
were literally hundreds of his favourite scones..
Was it heaven?
Or was it one final act of love
from his devoted Yorkshire wife of sixty years,
seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort,
he threw himself towards the table,
landing on his knees in rumpled posture.
His aged and withered hand
trembled towards a scone at the edge of the table,
when it was suddenly smacked by his wife
with a wooden spoon ......
*
*
*
*
*
'Bugger off' she said, 'they're for the funeral.'
.
=
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