We walked to the top of the valley,
And turned for home.
The old farm road,
A track with grass growing down the midpoint,
Bordered by two ancient hand-built stone walls,
Stretched away from us
Like a ribbon of faith,
A promise that
It would guide us on our journey.
Looking down its length,
It appeared to be the string
That held each building block,
Each field, together.
We realised just how deep
In conversation we had been,
To have come this far,
Without noticing, that
It was a long walk home.
© Caro Ness 2015
