there are memories. the walk to the river, past
the blasted oaks, hollow not dead. sap still
down to the farriers by the bridge, his door always
open . fan the fire. watched the horse
arrive, we watched the work.
he lived in the little house next door. it is all gone now.
mews cottages that no one can really afford. they say
that the only affordable housing there is down dorchester.
the iron railings had spikes on.