As I was sitting comfortably with an ice-cold beer in my hand, I watched the sun gently subside over the endless horizon. I was thinking of a title for a new book.
‘Dreams over the rainbow.’
‘Golden orb above the clouds.’
‘The not so blue sky.’
It was hopeless. My brain appeared to be functioning but the words did little justice to my imagination.
Then a quiet voice echoed in my ear.
‘Should you not have a semblance of an idea to begin with?’
Now that is a thought.
What story should I write?
Back to the sunset, and the beer.