The New Family Home

Now that midsummer approaches and the years begin to betray, the foundations I once knew are crumbling, my love ones are moving majestically away. Our new home a portrait of joy, each abode neatly placed in aisles, a monument of remembrance with the sweet scent of the rose, epithet etched for those left behind. No strangers loiter in this place where winter’s blanket covers all, and summer sun absolute brings no peace for the silent populous on board. Tears fall in regular intervals, most not wanting to let go, moisture given to a memory Yet! A welcome there awaits, “Oh! How ignorant the living are.” Oh! Yes the years will disenchant, each sorrowful event captured, season after season shedding ones youth, giving one’s matured mind visions of logical progression. One final day, I will play the ultimate game, winner or loser depending whom the enemy, Yet! No matter wherever I gaze my mind will heed the ending. My memories take me back, many times I have travelled Wharfedale’s ways, but on this very special day no matter where I lay, my final journey will be. “Down Addingham’s country lane.” © Harry J Horsman 1992