Matthew Arnold's Field - Ben Watt

Beaconsfield to Headington went by

The ring-road to the south

My heart too big to fit inside my mouth

And up there on the hill

The woods and houses still

I took the plastic urn

How heavily we burn

I stood there by the bench

Beneath an arch of trees

The flicker of his voice inside the breeze

And unscrewing the lid

The weirdest thing I did

And tumbling through my hands

The ash fell on the land

And I made a trail through the trees

Dust and pieces at my feet

And down in Matthew Arnold’s Field

With sun by cloud concealed

A horse its head held high against the sky

The bridleway led back up to the gate

A car parked by a tree

Inside a couple with sandwiches and tea

They were gazing at the field

Its silence all revealed

As it was once to him back then

And was to me that day again

And I see that trail through the trees

Dust and pieces at my feet

And down in Matthew Arnold’s Field

With sun by cloud concealed

A horse its head held high against the sky

On the day I said goodbye

As I tried to say goodbye