the conifers loom
rising dark
against the wintersky

The barren branches
reaching for the clouds
The last leaves
rustle to the ground

The country park
is deserted
long gone are
the merry visitors

by the tricky fountain
by the chained bridge

Memories flood
as the streams murmur
carrying water
down from level to level

Your hand is in mine
but only in spirit
as I stroll down
the treelined paths

Memories remain
as I turn by the castle
its moat shimmering
under the setting sun

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