Crawley
an excerpt

Chapter One

The dappled sunlight comforts Frank Crawley as he reclines amongst the moss and dandilion and ivy. Its eary morning warmth melts upon his skin, lulling him into a sense of reverie. He will miss the vivid colours which seem to pour from the leaves of the trees around him as the light filters through their layers like a beuatifully crafted stained glass mosaic. But his eyes are heavy and his mind is drawn away from the physical splendour which shines around him.