Where Have They Gone?

The original version of this poem was free verse - it was rewritten after studying Thomas Hardy at Read To Write Mexborough. Thanks to Ian Parks and Thomas Hardy for the inspiration to change it to a more structured form. It echoes the theme of Hardy's poems that he wrote after his wife died, where he visualises the past and present simultaneously from the same physical location.  

Where Have They Gone?

From the upper window the man looks out
Across the valley, horses graze
In the field that Time has quietly scorned
Untouched by all the passing days

In that same place those years before
in reflection stood a boy serene

He sees goalposts on the slanting field 

The village team in tangerine

Where once he played with leather ball
the man sees only trees full-grown
The laughter and the childhood games
could be but memories of his own

He turns his head to see the hill
the mine's old spoil heap cloaked in green
No natural feature could be so fair
where man had lately intervened

The boy sees the headstock; motionless then;
There only in spirit for the man
No coal below, ripped out and burnt
the miners and their work moved on

The stream flowed ochre in those times
stained liquid from the empty depths

To the brook that now runs clear
not tumbling from the man-made steps

Faded images play

of memories which

like a dream

make him feel

that Time just robs

with unseen stealth

all that he's done;

Those long gone days
the football pitch
the orange stream
the winding wheel
the colliers' jobs
and Time itself
have now all gone

and Time itself
will soon be gone

 (c) Tim Fellows 2017