Dreaming of Scotland
Dreaming of Scotland
She was as pretty as a picture.
Fate had brought her to me at a dark tavern in Germany.
Her raging brown eyes and
auburn hair across gentle and soft shoulders.
Her fragrance of flowers open my senses to her beauty.
Her Scottish accent made me wish to hear her sweet voice.
I was told to be kind to her.
Love was dead to me and
I was infected with rage and hate.
I tried to escape her beautiful face,
drinking and trying to blind my hunger for happiness.
She found me at the tavern.
She wrapped her arms around me.
Kissed my neck, face and lips.
She whispered "Love is a powerful storm.
Please don't speak and allow us to love."
In the mist of softness and opening new doors to joy and bliss.
Sometime you forget to create a safety net to protect yourself
and your sweet love.
A warm Germany summer allow two people to fall into the mercy
of a sweet love. Swim in the gifts young hearts can understand .
Summer was ending,
my Scotland beauty was going home.
She told me of Scotland.
The beauty of the country and the good people.
I told her,
I wanted her forever,
I talked of marriage.
Love took my hand.
She whispered.
"We had a short time to stay together.
I allow you into my heart. Sometime words don't mean a lot.
Love never does died. It only falls asleep till we can open the
door again."
She went home.
I got lost in the booze and liquor,
allowed the deserved load of pain to overtake my kindness.
I still went to the small lake.
And I dreamed of Scotland.
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