My heart has heavy grown;
my mind is far away!
I struggle just to breathe the air,
and make it through the day!
If only I could, for awhile,
be carried far away,
to the green hills of my Scotland,
for the morrow and a day!
I could see the Heather
in the Moors,
and breathe the bright, fresh air,
blown freshly from an
Emerald Sea,
Oh carry me back there!
I'll watch the Mist rise
in the Dell,
and smell the Heather's scent;
back to the Hills of Scotland,
I'm bound and Heaven sent!
Ron Cole
April 2007
|