Footsteps.


Take the old road after midnight
From Dymchurch wall to the Burmarsh chimes
Arm yourself with a trusty lantern
With ardent prayers to your given god
~
Sorrow on the touch of night wind
Chills the heart and melts resolve
Keep you’re footsteps to the pathway
For you there is no turning back
~
Murmurs in the fluted reeds
Footfalls on the path behind
Hoof beats on the Brenzet meadows
Quietened by a fearful glance
~
Small the church of Saxon stone
Sits silvered by the hanging moon
Open mouths of empty windows
Call the dead to evensong
~
Mashland mist waits to greet you
Fingered wraiths of vapour rising
Summoned by the curlews call
What is waiting, round the bend?