A country clothes line,
unfinished bottle of red wine
dust particles dance
in pure white sunbeams,
Wooden table and solid chairs
the hearth unswept
grey flakes of ash on the slate,
all is quiet in a human sense
birds sing and animals call,
this house itself feels absolutely cold
all life here got up one day
perhaps yesterday,
walked away closing the gate
behind for the very last time.

C