By: Blonde Two
Remember how we walked,
Down the moss clad lane,
Under bronze beech branches
Hung with jewels of rain.
Remember how we found,
The chair of long, lost giants.
Remember the lads that stood
On its seat in glad defiance.
Remember that green lane,
The smell of rain fresh ground.
Your footsteps that I trod,
The laughter that we found.
All lanes have an end,
And a beginning too.
May I find many times
To tread green lanes with you.
That is truly lovely.
your poem reminds me of one by Edward Thomas (who, I hear you cry!) which he wrote on the 22nd May 1916 at Hare Hall, deeply influenced by the war , which he called
‘the sun used to shine’
it is, perhaps naturally, more sombre than yours but has a similar theme of shared memories wistfully recalled and fate accepted.