Originally published: 24th August 2022
Image: Gordon Johnson from Pixabay
Childhood innocence and 'the rosy recollection' of time and places past.
I knew a land not far from here where stories kissed goodnight - a land like Oz before the storm when all was black and white. Yet now as ruby tinted mists add colour to that time - a distant land of spires and farms awakes as church bells chime. I see a land beyond the clouds where people stop to talk - a land of blue remembered hills where poets often walk. I see a land from way up high where children still believe - a land of snow where brass bands play on every Christmas Eve. Those happy highways where I went had homes with open doors - and lemon drops and chimney tops in worlds that had no wars.
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