Eden abandoned

 I done Eden at the end of last century
The random hills the early frosts
My footsteps on your octogon
Blue skins to Saint Clair

The bare cold mountains
I have touched mount Watkin
I have met the seacliff ghosts
breathed the salt air

The hoards of birds
weathering the dry entry
to bipolar winter frosting the edges
of silvery brown rivers to bucklands

At night I observed the mad remnants
Of those unfortunate souls 
Who emerged from death at night

In the hawkesbury grounds
Old Cherry farm abandoned
Flickering streetlights where noone lived anymore
Except me and the forgotten insanity in the old empty buildings