On
The Wolds.
What
I'd love to hold,
Walks
silently on the wolds.
Tall
and lean,
Like
ripening summer corn,
A
smile supreme,
Makes
me glad,
I
was born.
Caught
in my sights,
Target
of loves desire,
Up
on rolling wolds,
A
spirit, a dream,
Distant
in a close embrace,
Hope
and joy
Fill
o'er my face,
The
glow of firelight,
And
her warm embrace.
No comments:
Post a Comment