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| Source |
Morning misted grass
Velvet brushed green
Beckons, cries out
For a child,
Shoeless and wild.
Race across bare grass
With bare feet
Unfettered and free.
Hedge to stone wall,
Run and invite all
Follow, come, join...
Weeping eyes reply,
Cannot run, sadly sigh...
Travel ahead and discover
Fields touched by many.
Through golden gorse,
Beneath rowan trees,
Still, but for wren and sparrow
hawks.
Come, follow...
There is yet another
Field awaiting,
Weeping eyes.
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| Island of Eye/panoramio...Google maps |
