Wednesday, 27 May 2009

In Time

Before the smoke of this city sets a fog

That settles and smudges upon return,

Remember sitting in a pocket of time

Soaking up the sunshine of a country dwelling,

 When awoken by a gentle morning,

 You ran, dream into dream.


Quiet hours built your days,

 And Looking out over fields of years,

On crop covered hill top you stopped

 To watch swallows scribble their stories,

Dipping blue ink upon sheets of sky.

 Sat in stillness, dusk kissed

Your heart listened to the questions

The land demanded of you,

 And Whispered a song of home.