PLACES
There are places, as you travel that become part of you,
You will remember all about them all your life through,
You can close your eyes and go back there so easily
Because they are embedded deep within your memory.

As a child I went to Boscobell House, and the famous tree
Where King Charles hid from the Round Heads fury,
All those many years later it still stood thick and strong,
I could imagine hiding there, puzzling the hunting throng.

Now I am retired and I look back and I can still see
The fields with the sheep and cows and the one tree,
I wish I could paint a picture so others may know
Of the scene that in my mind often starts to show.

I see the mighty ocean beating relentless on the shore
Yet it’s years since I saw the sea, but I long to go once more,
But if that’s not possible I’ll dream, I can even taste the brine
As the waves splash across my face, a feeling quite sublime.

Then I close my eyes and see a forest of the deepest green
Wonder quietly through it, where elk and cariboo are seen
Swim in a lake where the water is cold and crystal clear,
And then the haunting call of a family of loons I hear.

I can see a city skyline reflected in the peaceful lake
Feel all the excitement as I do walk at a great pace,
Another place that is part of me, each one different I know
But these places make me what I am as through life I go.

M Ann Margetson © July 21, 2001