The road has long gone

The road has long gone

The trace of it lies

In the weft of wildflowers

The spread of an overgrown hedge

The space between saplings

The cut of the landscape.

Once this way

A road did run

A house stood at its side

Set back into the treeline

The rubble of a chimney

Still lies there

The tumble of leaves

Rotting in a flaking colony

Of broken bricks

And a splintered wooden stanchion

A shape that might once

Have been the footing

Of a staircase

Leading to the stars

Which have barely changed

In all the years

Of earthly deterioration

Old stories are still being told

They whisper through the trees

Strange exotic incantations

Borne on the West wind

Seeping into the dreams of children

Dark tales of bitterness and strife

Lost fortunes and murder,

Who could ever take a life

A husband or a wife

Perhaps it is the circumstance

Who am I to judge

When I would protect my own

From harm

But hope to be proportionate

What is that there?

A gate, a door?

What choice of shortcut

Is this?

I hurry by without a glance

Not scared but wary

Tempting fate is a step too far

Even for a non-believer

And a warm fire awaits

A hot tub and supper

Too much to lose

To risk all on the uncertainty

Of principle

Not that I would say as much

When asked

How was the journey home

“All was good and as it should be my love.”

Would be the reply

Better to keep the mood light

Darkness has a way

Of announcing itself

With little need of any help from me

And the warmth of my home

Needs, not the tall tales

Of Darkwood Lane

To bring its cold imaginings

Out of the shadows

And into the conversation.