Scones

The hot tea washes down my throat, casting away any sense of dryness or thirst left from my scones. Their crumbs sit on the plate and I look at them, trying not to think of the memories I had with them. Knowing instead of mourning and being sad that I should treasure the memories I had with the scones, and not forget how delicious they were. I loved them so much and every moment, every instant I thought of them a hint of sadness crept through my mind. I tried to force it out, thinking of the memories I would treasure forever with these scones. But nevertheless I miss them, and they were such a big part of my tea time. So as I sit here writing this in reconciliation, and as I sit here in my sorrow I remember the scones, their taste, their look, and their texture, and how good they tasted.