A Quiet Place

In the first golden rays of the rising sun as they fall upon the stair,

Among the lovely flowers of the garden and by the old stone wall,

you are there.

In the sloping fields with trickling streams and spilling wild rose,
 
On craggy cliffs with trees of every shade of green,

you are there.

In the bluest sky among whitest cotton wool clouds drifting by

Where the wild haunting cry of the wheeling buzzard is heard, 

you are there.

Among the radiant orange glow and the deepest green of the wild rowan,

In the shady glens of the quiet forest where deer sip from mirrored pools,

you are there.

On the high, purple heather covered hills where white quartz stone glows,

Where the wind blows wild and squalls with driving rain,

you are there.

Where the silver moon climbs over the distant mountain accompanied by a lone star,
 
In the crackling of the home hearth fire with its comforting glow,

you are there.

In a lovely haunting melody once heard and never forgotten,

In my nightly dreams, your lovely smile is there to comfort me

Jeffrey Rowles