It was years since I’d visited
My grandfather’s farm,
It had become inaccessible,
The grass now grew across the road,
And the fenceposts clung to one another,
Drunkenly,
Connected by sad and futile bits of wire
A morning mist hovered,
Half-burned by the sun,
Which threw long shadows down the track.
It would have been sad,
But for the trees that lent their shade,
And crowded the path in a protective embrace,
Returning fond snatches of memory to me
Of my grandfather’s farm.
© Caro Ness 2015
Reblogged this on rennydiokno.com.
Thank you so much! I shall come and find you!
Hi I’ll be waiting for you with my family.
Lovely, Caro. Right up my street.
#memorymapping
Thanks Julian. I’m glad you like it.