They had gone, the followers. * Calm fell on the garden stripped from creeping wallflowers of Sunbury-On-Thames I funeral walked the clipped path the followers fell into step. Next layer in filled with small things bush speckled with star anis little prickled backs of conker shells and baby mushrooms, black withered pears clung to bird-nest branches peeping cold sky. Final layer still. Leafy shudders on insect footfall I crept up on the white flowers poking smooth white heads through white skin and tight-roped the ivy carpet. Lost in carved names I was alone. (literally ... and poetically of course) They had gone, the followers strewn across the landscape like petal flakes that twitched on the lawn.