Along a road..

Along a road of history
Overgrown reclaimed homes
Now lay as tombs of strewn stones
The browns and greys
The creams and breaking greens
Line the flanks of these hard tilled tracts of land
Where not much stands before the weather
Exposed of upon these moors of heather
Lone trees, the last of remaining legacies
A sentiment in the absence of heirs
Whistle in the wind, a groaning grief
Raised from the fingers of their gristled limbs
To fill peat leached loachans in a still of murky tears