Filtered tree light slivers

over ruins of a life.

Churchyard greymarked garden

murmurs with the stream.

Dank earth slowly delivers

messages from the past.

Gently tapping my shoulder

whispering spirit survives.

Wraiths follow like a river

floating into our heads.

Memories growing colder

carried away by the tide.

Time seems almost to shiver

blending two worlds as one.

Coolness kissing my fingers

tracing between the stones.

Cottages bent and severed,

the children long since gone.

Only the birds make a haven

in brickwork worn and done.

Guns came through the heather

metal game of man, took this

place and stopped the clock,

ceasing life that they had known