The Ancient Trackway

Across the field and down between steep banks
This ancient trackway runs. A way worn deep
Into the very bedrock of the land
By many iron shod hoofs and wheels and feet.

Who knows but what there may have passed this way,
The Celtic warrior armed with shield and spear,
Leaving behind his loved ones safe at home
Within the castle dike on hilltop near.

Who knows how many of the folk of old
Briton and Roman, Angle, Saxon, Dane:
With horse and hound, chariot, cart and sledge
Helped form this treasure of a country lane.

The ruined longhouse, roofless now, lies near
Above the river, in its valley green.
Once men and women, children, all lived here
Made tears and laughter part of this dear scene.

All, all are gone now, silence reigns within
The woodland copse and by the riverside.
Here can I stand and listen for the past
To speak to me with voices time can't hide.

The track worn down with countless wheels and feet,
The fallen walls, the ford across the stream.
The life once lived here lives again for me,
And modern life becomes the unreal dream.

©Tio Tel 2012

With thanks to ksam for the comment at Feb 7th which inspired me