only the echoes remain
clinging like bird
song to branches
but where are
the true songs
the voices that led us
bewitched
into the woods
lily of the valley
wild garlic
ghosts of our youth
flitting breathless
beneath spring trees
white skulls
stepping stones
leading us
into
deep dark waters
rogermoorepoet 
Very touching, nicely done!
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Thank you. It’s an oldie that I rediscovered. I have been very quit on the blog. I am working on three books. One is out, one was printed on Friday last, and the third will hit the press next week. Blogging is such sweet sorrow, when it takes me away from other work.
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