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Picnicking with The Doctor

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The sun never shone more brightly and the shade never felt cooler in the shadow of the weeping willow. Nothing could be more gratifying then all the food and comradely friendship we possessed.
Woven plaid cloth is rough on my hands, and leaves imprints.
Being distracted makes everything matter less.
His absurd, off center bow tie completed his personality.
Quirky smile, screwed into place, never left his lips as we munched on our chilly sandwiches.
Words exchanged about the wonders of the universe at his disposal, and my narrow outlook was enlightened.
Stars bowed without questions, Cybermen and Daleks alike run with terror from his might.
Yet he sits sipping lemonade with me.
I ask about adventures, perils and beauty.
Ice covered planets, weeping angels, and paradoxes of massive scale.
Vague answers that protect secrets.
His smile slipped into a bittersweet grimance.
His deep brown eyes turned heavy, searching for relief... from everything.
A lonely soldier of the universe, chained to the infinitely powerful blue box.
Slowly, he slides into madness at the loss of companions by his helping hand, the kiss of certain death.
Burdened by the curse of accidental disasters shadowing his every step, nothing is safe, no where to hide.
With a sip of extra-ordinary lemonade mischievous joy sparked and the darkness evaporated.
Some simply thirst for normality.





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