From Oxfordshire In Wiltshire Around the World We Sing

We walked a gravel foot path where the barges used to tow speaking of people we had shared this town with, remembering their faces, and calling their names, replaying games of basketball and cricket, thinking of the times, the walks, the merry dances, the tastes that had settled on our tongues.

And then along the path, inside the cut, a name upon a frame, settling as if a prophesy of a time that was yet to come wherein many things would stay the same and those who had moved on to different places would be called again whilst those who remain, remain the same – full of pleasure, fun, excitement, waiting for the names to come.

More photos and notes from a lost poem can be found on my facebook page


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