Lonely
I wander
through scenes of my childhood.
All about
to memory,
those happy
days of yore.
Gone are the old folk,
the house stands deserted.
No light in the window,
no welcome at the door.
Here's where the children played games on the heather.
Here's where they sailed their
wee boats on the berm.
Where are they now?
Some are dead, some have wandered.
No more
shall those children return.
Lonely is the house now,
and lonely the moorland.
The old folk are gone.
I stand here like a
ghost in the shadow.
