Going Home

There are places that connect us to our past Points of anchor which once linked us to known havens Those forms, reflections printed on our hearts Evoke forgotten times as icons graven And flag an instant signal, when we roam, That we are nearing, once again, our home There’s one such image ever in my mind That long chalk ridge, a back-cloth to my youth Like table, bare, where ancestors once dined The shape with a simplicity of truth It’s presence - a sensation visceral Revealed in every upward glance peripheral I will, time to time revisit loved location The noble downland poised o’er fertile vale To know again that sense of exultation Well remembered image tells familiar tale Then one day some time hence I’ll rise thereon And stay ‘til winds scatter dust, and I move on.