Worlds of Home.

Here I have laughed,

Here I have sung.

From here I’ve run,

Away and back.

On my return,

First sight the Tay,

The curve of the bay,

What can I say?

Just to walk over soft sun warmed pebbles,

Cool wet mud trails.

Ground sprung with liquid,

The blood of the earth.

When I first fled,

I did find another,

Whom showed me love,

Of a kind other.

But I dreamt of home.

Of fresh fields of hay,

And ground where I lay,

Blue heaven above.

I was never alone.

When it gets dark,

At end of each day,

I am guided by glitter,

From lightyears away.

Now I may always walk where I choose,

But every so often I think of the woods.

Woods are the home of the broadleaf and pine,

Where ‘what is time’?

Clocks never do chime.

In worlds of home,

Great seeds have been sown,

Many have grown,

Love has been known.