The Old Times (a poem by Gordon Calvert)

The magic of the place
is gone.
The meadows
The giant oaks
The old cabin
It was none of these
that held the spell
for me.

Nor was it the horses,
The cows or the house.
I would like to say
that it was the children
laughing and leaving free
but that would not be true.

It was the sense of
being
of belonging to
all these things.
Now the feeling
has been broken,
lost forever.
It is time to move on.

GF Calvert

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