Returning Home

(To one’s Birthplace) In the glory of the morning just to see the sunrise take the place of the moon, at this time I love the best this memory this place truly blest. Through the ages one had not forgotten blue skies some that turned to grey, knowing one day we’ll meet again in this land that holds no sway. Yes indeed I need to walk again within the balmy moor, meet my reflection from the past sense once more locked away happiness. Hear the dawn chorus of the song thrush a rendition of a morning tide trill, that seemed to say ‘forever I love you’. Visit the old cottage in the dale where one’s sensibility sweeps, like the spring clean broom upon a naive childhood. Relive the chasteness of dandelion seeds floating in the warmth of dancing light, spreading the message of rebirth. Walk amidst the mist that mingled in ceremony a subdued veil upon conformity, stumble across sinews of dewy tears glistening within verdancy. Endure the reverberation of rhythmic waters over moss riddled rocks beneath the old stone railway bridge. Meander again upon the hillsides where meadows collide in dishevelled jade and one’s over indulgence of ‘Pure Nostalgia’ cements a portrait of foreverness! © Harry J Horsman 2010