Harpenden

Harpenden is a (mostly) pretty village in England; a friend is buried there

In this place where shadows speak of loss and love –
A new field so close to the railway line –
Memories and lightning flashes and heavy drops,
Digging the earth, piling pebbles,
An eye on the horizon of dull houses,
Conscious of the press of old stones,
The occasional tended spot,
And then the forgotten child,
I left for you a heart of flowers,
Lavender, and red tulips for the spring.