The Path of Kernow

He would rise from the bed every morning at 4am, throwing off the worn bedspread, and slowly climbing out. It was becoming a real effort to lift his heavy aching limbs out of the rickety old bed. His large blackened feet splayed the cold, bare floorboards. He pulled on his thick woollen socks and forced his feet into his boots which required considerable effort, before slowly lifting his huge frame to a standing position like some old prize fighter that had just been knocked down.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)