On A Spring Drive

It was early in the morning,

Just on daybreak the decision made,

To go on a spring drive,

With my Cattle dog named Mate.

~

My new digital SLR camera in hand,

We head for the car, my old MG,

The direction not planned.

For our drive to the country,

~

Asking my Mate which direction was best,

He pointed his paw, to the rear of the car,

The direction he chose, was South-West.

So off we drove, not knowing how far.

~

The day was great,

The sky was early morning azure blue,

With fluffy white clouds,

Gently floating by, only a few.

~

A perfect Spring day,

With the top down,

Wind in our hair,

We drove out of town.

~

We stopped many times,

To take photos of history.

Of old buildings and signs,

Some were a mystery.

~

An hour or two further,

we drove past a lake,

To see what photos and memories,

we could make.

~

Along the way were many properties,

of lavender farms and flowering trees.

No doubt, they were filled,

With honey bees.

~

The further we drove, late afternoon,

the weather did change.

To our left was an orange grove.

The clouds were now the colour of champaign.

~

Would the skies open up,

and let it rain.

Do we leave the top down,

or let it remain.

~

The decision was made,

to stop somewhere.

We turned left down a lane,

Where no bitumen was laid.

~

An old road made of gravel and dirt,

was all that was there,

We travelled not far along,

to the top of the hill.

~

I noticed an old building,

Behind some trees,

Made of wood,

old sandstone and brick chimneys.

~

I drove down closer,

for a better look.

A very old sign, just off the lane,

hidden from time behind a very tall Oak.

~

The Old Glasshouse Inn. Est: 1919

Now very run down,

Through years of neglect.

I wondered about what secrets this place has kept.

~

A perfect subject I thought,

for a picture or two.

I grabbed my camera,

And told Mate to stay.

~

I walked over to where,

the sign had been placed,

And snapped away.

I looked down to where some cobblestones lay.

~

I followed the path,

To the front of the Inn.

Positioned the camera,

And smiled with a grin.

~

I stepped back further,

To get the whole building in,

Dusk would be here soon,

in an hour or two.

~

I turned to my left

and saw a field of wonder.

Wildflowers were growing,

Of every colour.

~

Yellows and reds,

Oranges and golds,

Purple, blues, whites and pinks too.

A true spring colour explosion.

~

I took some photos,

Of that lovely sight.

I heard my Mate bark,

As a flock of Galah’s took flight.

~

I headed back to the car,

That my dog Mate was protecting.

Setting my camera down, on the seat,

Unsure of what I was expecting.

~

I lifted the roof,

And locked in position,

Something I’d done often,

With a familiar tradition.

~

I walked around,

to get into my car,

Mate, made a noise

As he jumped on my seat.

~

An unusual sound,

I hadn’t heard much before.

A type of whimper,

I reached for his paw.

~

Transfixed were his eyes,

Looking over, to where the

wildflowers were growing.

I turned to where his eyes were going.

~

At first, as hard as I might,

all I could see,

Was the field of colour.

Then something unexpected caught my eye.

~

I looked over to where,

A headstone was standing,

A lovely young lady,

Was dancing near to the fence.

~

Arms in the air,

She was so happy,

Spinning around without a care.

Was she alone, or was a mystery man there.

~

She had a Lilac hat on,

Wearing a pretty white dress.

She lifted her feet,

her shoes were Lilac too.

~

She paused for a second,

bent down to pick a white flower.

Pressed it to her nose,

and then continued.

~

Dancing the waltz,

Without a care in the world

Such a pretty picture, I thought,

Who was this girl?

~

I turned to grab my camera,

Held it to my face,

After the long day,

I was feeling jaded.

~

My eyes were sore,

I took off my glasses,

I’m not quite as young,

as I once was, I’m now in my late fifties.

~

I rubbed my eyes

and put back my glasses.

Lifted my camera,

To set its focus.

~

Before I could press the button,

The image of this lovely young lady faded.

In the blink of an eye,

She had disappeared.

~

Mate, made a gulping sound,

At the same time, she vanished.

I was confused and bewildered,

At what we both witnessed.

~

I said, ‘come on Mate let’s go near’.

Along the old fence was a rickety old gate.

He ran through, without any fear.

I opened it and entered too.

~

The ground was flattened,

where the wildflowers grew.

Someone had been there,

For that, I knew.

~

I turned to the headstone,

The epitaph was quite weathered,

It was hard to read,

But I endeavoured.

~

In Loving Memory

Of Our Only Daughter

Sarah Jane Glass.

1909 - 1928

Taken too young,

you were our treasure.

We will always remember

the kindness you shared.

Lay here to rest, for all eternity.

You will always be so dearly missed.

Love you forever.

Mum & Dad

~

Could it be,

The girl that we’d seen,

Be that same girl,

She was only nineteen.

~

A single white flower,

lay on her grave.

I picked it up,

Full of wonder.

~

It was getting late,

The warm spring day,

Had all but gone,

The cool of the night, about to set in.

~

We set off the way we came,

Thinking about what we’d seen that day.

If only I had been quicker,

Taking that last picture.

~

Back at home my laptop ready,

I got straight to work.

Downloading the pictures,

I opened the one I took of the building.

~

Looking closely at the image,

I zoomed in on a particular section.

Something there caught my attention,

In the window’s reflection.

~

Something I didn’t see,

When I took the photo.

Quite unexpected.

Was there full of life,

~

The lovely young girl,

Her hands in the air,

Lilac hat on, in the pretty white dress,

Dancing about without a care.

~

Could it be real,

Should I tell anyone?

The photo is proof.

Of what we had seen.

~

Oh dear, what should I do!