St. Cyril's Well, Anglesey, Wales Uk
My heart has sought your mystery
guardian dryad, ivy tressed tree,
other worldly mound and ley;
long I’ve searched the fair Sidhe.
Here, found I the ancient long bone,
the knurled hawthorn, the Druid’s home.
Sheltered, shrouded, and overgrown
within St. Cyril’s grave well come.
At last, at last my longings free,
and I can dwell a time with thee
A time, past time, with all the wee
Before the banshee calls to me.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment