A Dream -- Tuesday 20 October

I'm dancing with Mother Mary in a cathedral of radios, their cathode eyes blinking like stars. She's singing our old tune, the one I can't quite place, but my heart knows every word. The stained glass windows shimmer with hues of sunset, each pane a memory triggering a warmth within me. I'm waiting by the window again, fingers tapping on the sill, but this time, it's Mother who arrives, her hair tousled by the wind, singing our song. We sway together, time looping like an old vinyl record.