The day you went away
was the day my world stopped turning.
We both always knew this would be temporary but Three Hundred and Twenty Seven days of you was never going to be enough.

The flowers here wilted
and shrivelled away when you left.
They only ever blossomed for you.

The grass dried up
and the leaves fell down.
Dusty tracks now where once lay roads.

The birds flew South
but not just for the winter.
To be with you.

This place,
our place,
the town that brought us together
is tainted now.
It can offer me no more.

Come home.