A Welsh Love Story

[Liam's Z]

An elderly man lay dying in his little bed, while suffering the

Agonies of

Impending death; when he suddenly smells the aroma of his favourite

Treat,

Freshly made Welsh cakes, wafting up the stairs from the kitchen.

 

 

He gathers his remaining strength, and lifts himself from his bed.

And,

Leaning on the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and

With

Even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he

Slowly crawls

Downstairs.

 

 

With laboured breath, he leans against the kitchen door frame,

Gazing

Through watery eyes into the kitchen.

 

 

Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself

Already in

Heaven, for there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table

Were

Dozens of freshly made Welsh cakes fresh from the oven and cooling

Slowly.

 

 

Was he in heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his Devoted

Welsh

Wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this mortal world a

Truly

Happy man?

 

 

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the

Table,

Landing on his knees in a rumpled posture.

 

 

His aged and withered hand trembled as it moved slowly towards the

Closest

Welsh cake, possessing extra raisins, his favourite ones laid out

Neatly at

The edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife

With a

Spatula.

 

 

"F**k off" she says, "they're for the funeral."