Went walking in the high woods this morning
A light dusting of overnight snow glinting in the sunlight
Like a million perfect diamonds
Over to my right dense forest with barely a track seen
I will save that place for later in the year when
For a few days and nights it will become my refuge
I love such places, clean fresh air and a cold breeze blowing
Very few other people here , to early for them
Such a perfect setting to start the day

Just been going through my poetry
As I'm sure many of you do
And noticed something different
Now so many empty spaces
Where I once saw prophile faces
WHY?
Where have they gone,
why did they leave?
The ones we called our friends
Those who once might have wielded swords
But chose to wield the pen
Now so many empty spaces
Where once were prophile faces