Hurst

My thoughts drift south
to the old cottage
on the lonely moor
where the owls yet swoop

Long since
did the sun there set
but memories remain
of that final meeting

Looking out west
over the sweeping fells
where the pheasants strut
and the golden light lingers

You could only look then
at where you could go
just a year before
for many a mile

You drifted out of my sight
as the train pulled away
taking you unwittingly
out of my sight forever

We retraced your steps
among the ancient valleys
in that warm summer
now a decade gone

The years have marched on
don't think we'll be back there
on the lonely moor
where the owls yet swoop