When I close my eyes, I can be
A child once again, running free
Over the heather, to the sea,
Wild on the moorland, born so free.
The wind in my hair welcomes me,
The scent of the air, sets me free,
Swirling frets, creep up off the sea
Over the moorlands, hiding me.
Lost am I, one moment profound,
Lost in you arms, lost in the sound
Of the seagull’s cry, o’er the rill,
Of the sound of surf, o’er the hill.
How oft do I long to remain
In your arms forever again,
But dreams in the night, are gone with the light,
And eyes that are closed, must open again

Another good poem. I notice your use of the sense of smell in your poems. They can be a strong trigger for the memory. I miss the aroma of roasted green chili in the fall when I lived in New Mexixo.

This is simply good...it tears me away, that yearning. Heard your names before. Current visitors?
siren