Ghost routes

A narrow length of grey 
Disappears into black
Between high hedges 
Well aligned.
Ferns are  arched
With secrets held
In spectral stillness.
A Breath of wind
Casts
elicit conversations
Between the leaves,
Murmurs 
Of time forgotten
years
By long gone travellers
Whose spectres linger there
Above the moss 
And creeping ivy 
That twists around 
The gnarled trunks of trees.
Haunting stillness
Envelopes all and 
Takes me in to feel
And breathe that history.