By Alexander Milne
This evening while browsing through my old vinyls, my fingers drifted onto Thin Lizzy’s ‘Sarah’. I froze for a moment, petrified by memory, caressing grooves as familiar and yet as faded as the memory of your emerald eyes and the taste of your ruby lips. We had dreamed to its song, your hand in mine – my girl, my Sarah. We would see the world one day and build our lives in the image of our hopes. That was before he parted us. Now I wonder where you are, but I will never know until I join you on Death’s grand voyage.
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