The Wind Around My Shawl : Narrative Poetry

People have scattered.
Families torn between home and where they where born .
Empty cottages greet each new moon,
their thatch roofs are tattered and torn .
Hold my hand.
Steady me .
Stay a while .
Its lonely here on the last mile .
There's no one left but memories Paul .
The wild wind blows around my shawl .
Sure you're the wind around my shawl Paul
and all I hear is the call of thewind .
It whispers round my shawl stay with me .
Stay with me here Paul .
Years are as old as the hills Paul
and the tide still rise,
and the rain still falls ,
but one thing never changes my young Paul ,
although I've turned grey ,
I've seen it all .