Empty Now.

The country lane 

is empty now.

No one walks 

where she once walked.

The water tower 

is still there

the farm larger 

but in the same place

but no sight of her

just a memory 

of where she once walked.

I stand and listen 

a sound of cattle 

in some nearby field

birdsong 

a sound of a tractor

in a far off field moving.

Where the cowman once lived

some other lives now

the cottage sold off

the tied-cottages

now sold off to others.

The church yard 

where we once met

and talked is vacant 

of her and graves

alone remain

with their old 

and new legends

on stones above 

their resting places.

I walk the lane

where she once walked

hear in the wind

our long ago conversations,

ghostly in form

then slipping away

into the summer air

where she once stood.

I close my eyes

and remember 

those days of yore

and things that happened

and words said before.