Goodbye walks are the hardest

You forget don’t you?

The curves, the gradients, the way your muscles feel

As you tread small inclines

On loose gravel paths

Through familiar passages

Clusters of bushes, fiery collages of colour carefully collated by gardeners

Spattering of wild flowers more carefully curated by nature

A sense of home, of comfort

Your unroofed house

You don’t own it, pack it up

It doesn’t become someone else’s to make their own

For it was never yours

But it was

You own soft green quilt

To walk barefoot on

And open your heart to

And feel so crestfallen to say bye bye to