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