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Her laughter was infectious as it echoed up the staircase.
Her slippered feet danced across the balcony, pausing seconds for her to peer over the edge to see if I was following.
I always did.
Always chasing but never catching her. It was all part of the game.
Numerous alcoves provided perfect hiding places, window seats meant to be lazed in overlooking the grounds, watching the peacocks strut their stuff as the doves flew in and out of the dovecote.
The house, now empty save for shadows and memories, mocked me.
The grounds were overgrown, weeds and brambles having choked the life out of shrubs and roses once beautiful and fragrant.
There was no colour now.
I hear her laughter, infectious as always.
See her lean over the balcony to see if I’m following.
Always chasing, but never catching her.
I’m never there to catch her when she falls.