|Image copyright DC COMICS|
rug on the path in my back garden, leaning against the door of the cellar
in which I often sat when it rained, listening to drops pattering off the roof.
Not today 'though. Today the sun shone brightly overhead, and on the far
horizon I could see a famous Scottish mountain, purple against the blue sky,
and white clouds drifting lazily by in the distance. A faint hint of a balmy
breeze gently blew on my face and hair, and it felt good merely to
be alive without a care in the world.
|My garden cellar. 'Twas the door on the right against which I sat|
many memories. I only have to look at that cover and I'm once again
a boy sitting out in my back garden, reading comics and occasion-
ally watching the clouds drift by. Oh, to be a lad again.
I'd give all wealth that years have piled,
The slow result of life's decay,
To be once more a little child
For one bright summer-day.
From "Solitude" by Lewis Carroll. March 16th, 1853.