I see you in the flowers blooming
and hear you in the breeze
you are no longer in that grave
where you were gently laid
for that was just a resting place
where you could sleep until refreshed
before you claim your place
and roam the glens and hills
where the thistles
with their spears and melancholy
honour your courage and spirit
and where the wild heather blooms
in its glorious purple hues
no longer stained white
by the salt of my fallen tears
© Ann Bagnall

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.