Rural Tales Of Hippy Oblivion. Poem by Peter Vealey

Oh down this road we go.
We never knew how long or far.
Or when we'd know it was over.
The trail was lost, the mission 'gone'.
On empty bars, cars and hiking feats of yore.
Valleys and hills by the score.
We looked like pale ghosts,
On repentant and unrepentant time.
It's flower primed n' burst.
The end was nigh
A long time ago.
Our sail
Broken and lashed
On the seas` floor.
Revisited dreams and memories of youth.
Searing remembrances of loves` tainted fruit.
Till you were
The same free spirit no more!