Young Miriam Mc Donald reclines on dank straw, the fine cotton fabric of her nightgown stretched against her distended belly.
Her long thin hands move to this roundness, stroking gently.
You twist and you squeeze your inner self until reality and fictional character slide together.
Then at the end of it all comes the moment of disengagement, and you’re not quite the same person any more.
The old couple made a perfect capital ‘Y’ shape as they walked together around the corner and up the hill.
You see, they each had severe curvature of the spine, as though in sympathy with one another.
The vicious wind set leaves scuttling on the ground, and branches arching against the bright night sky.
The full moon saw it all, and intensified the shadows at the bases of the trees.
I've seen young people squirm when they are faced with the possibility that the elderly may still indulge in sex.
Mon and Velma's advice holds good for young and old.