It's a lonely old home, damp, decrepit, disgusting, all musty, full of completely nothing. Old shoes and boxes, old rope and badly taxidermy foxes, a smell that induces thoughts of bacteria and toxins, which this man is locked in. 

 

A sight which begs the question of who lives here and in what mind? An answer to which would transport you in time to find a man and woman that are fine.

 

I summon the courage to avert this man's attention standing aimlessly staring at the cupboard, a need to know his story to take a moment of his company, with bad breath a haunted picture on his face, as if facing a life time of sin, he begins. 

 

"A tale of Willow I would like to tell, the losing of whom had sent me straight to hell, upon my heart she had cast a spell, we sold bits and pieces together but our love you could never sell. Look at the garden she would so loving tend the likes of which it will never see again" he continues looking down with a frown"I feel as though I've let Willow down"

 

The hardest man would find it hard to not feel emotion gaising out onto the jungle of a yard. I stand right up and say "I shall set in motion a solution to at least sort the garden situation. If I do this it will lift your spirits but can you promise me to clean up a bit?" 

 

A smile so big his lips cracked not missing a beat said "I'll get right on that!" A dim sparkle in his eyes that took me by surprise made me realise there is hope in even the darkest of times. 

 

If I have anything my word is mine. 

 

48 hours pass I'm knocking on his door, through the glass I see him waddle, shouting "who is it?" sadly, nervously unsure, I reassured, "only me I've come to do the hedges and the trees. 

 

He answered with no hello, just "I've been busy". The atmosphere in here hits you like getting off the plain at Spain, head back, but with the look of WTF is that! Bless him.

 

Under the tobacco stained ceiling I continue in,

 

"You've not done much" 

 

Guiding me through the mess he would protest "No No come and see, ive tidied the bedroom for Gloria and me".

He's done a wonderful job, even change the sheets, he's tidied up her dresser and took his jacket off the back of her seat, it's all neat and tidy. 

 

Almost done, the sun's been out, beating down on me, I know its a test keep going, keep doing my best, I've got someone to impress. The coffee he offered me, looking more like mud in a broken handle cracked based mug, that on the side read "Tea for my love". 

 

I bought us both a beer each on completion of sacred works, a stout or an ale he said is what he prefers. 

 

In silence we sat taking in the labours of the day, what he said next I never thought he would say, he wants me to play a song on my phone, one that reminds him of when this house was a home, "Bobby Vee, Take good care of my baby" 

 

As we sat together I listened to the lyric, I thought about Willows spirit and would she be pleased with the work we've done? as he imagines them both dancing in the sun. So profound about these feelings, overwhelmed I silently cried, I looked to my right to find, he must have died at the same time. Holding her picture close to his chest he took and held his final breath,

 

Finally free of the mess.