Gone, not forgotten.
Listen, clarity of birdsong.
Standing in the graveyard
Of this house that is no more a house
Off an avenue that is no more an avenue
What was pristine earth, no more pristine earth?
Those who worked the land
Lost, faded into one another.
Tatters hanging on barbed wire and thorn.
Turning with an upward look
To a place where no habitation meets the eye
Wandered, wondered.
Poetry from The Man Shed
27/01/2020
~The Poet’s Poet~
Spoken word version on soundcloud https://soundcloud.com/the-poets-poet-1/gone-not-forgotten
Chris's Blog 
Oh Chris, this is poetically sad, but honest words of our ageing souls, wondering about those times !!
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Thank you Ivor, come to think of it, it might even fit into how your people find themselves at this time of raging fire damage and loss of life. Hope you are keeping well.
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Yes Chris your quite right about that…. some of people stories and the emptiness of their eyes, is undescribable
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Very moving
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