05/09/2016 4 Comments
This one didn’t come out as I’d hoped, but I’m publishing anyway. Hope you like it.
A land that drifts, through morning mists,
With blanketed fog abound.
Where rain can fall, on oak trees tall,
And cold upon the ground.
A dream of gold, of stories told,
Where history writes itself.
No lies allowed, nor mis’ries shroud,
For shadows hide it’s wealth.
Amongst the trees, the dancing breeze,
The scent of summers past.
A sky that’s wide, no place to hide,
A winter set to last.
A shadow grows, the darkness flows,
No sign of light returning.
With eyes that spy, and softly pry,
What faces are they spurning?
This secret place, where none are safe,
A place of untrue sanctuary.
Tread soft my dear, hold tight to fear,
This place traps all unwary.
A land that waits, for love or hate,
It cares not what is planted.
For shadows grow, and darkness knows,
That peace will soon be granted.