The Footpath
The Footpath
To walk the old footpath with steady tread
Where mists and steep sloped hills obscure the view.
And see, along the way, inside my head
The ghosts of those dear friends whom once I knew.
Beyond aged trees and ancient field’s span,
Hidden horizons meet the distant sky
Where history has trod and changed the land,
To the free wind’s soft song and raptor’s cry
Along winding lane and fast flowing brook
Where playful child once found his destined way.
Age old hamlet or Autumn’s ripe corn’s stook
Where spirited youth spent too short a day.
Long past are those dear friends who trod those ways,
But forever the ancient footpath stays.
08/25/17
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2017
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