Vast measureless sunset, I look into your miles, I once came to you new every evening, when you spoke to us of your glories, and the young men and women of England dreamed through the smile of your timelessness.
Darkened by the evening’s ashes, we now search your skies, fires smolder where we once stood and watched with eyes of wonder. Now a strange moonrise that almost speaks, ‘No more the happy days of wonderment, of family and friends and summers that never end!’
Old stone cottage on the woodland pathway, chimney-breathing smoke, fireside contentment that marks the gone worlds disappearing aching.
A broken sign reads, “this way to the beach,” dullness solves the mystery, losers sleep who once might have fought for the dream of yesterday.
Cold bells ring out from the Chapel in the valley, they toll across the fields of horror and pain; from Edwardstone’s church gate to Harpers hill Nayland, where sunsets now go unnoticed.