Watercolour on paper

Signed on the front.

“He left his brace of pistols on the mantle, let the dust collect a wee longer, he decided. Besides, the bairns were far too fascinated by them, and the pluckiest among them may even dare pinch them if his old muzzle fancied a nap. A smile crossed his wearied lips. Gone are the days when young lads would have pistol and sword forced upon them, and good riddance. He crept away from the main party as they readied, and strode to the bluff to breathe in the crisp morning. The salt-scorched cliffs broke the fists of the tides below him. In days past their roars had echoed the battle cries. Many he'd bid farewell along here, their resting place chosen to watch over the sunrise. His own Son he laid down to become one with the land, that single time his tears had made home in the soil with him. "Look down, laddie. Look down and see what's come of your sacrifice".

He'd dallied by the bluff a little longer than he thought, and by the time he'd crested the hill by his property, the party was already awaiting him. He was met with smiles, and waves from the bairns, and took his place amongst the procession.

"I do" swore the man, and "I do" swore his wife. The words from his Grandson brought peace to his heart, and for a moment, he'd seen his Son, the boy's Father, standing before them shining brightly with pride. A second time, I suppose I'll allow it, he thought, as the tears crossed his cheeks to meet his smile.”