He held his head high, he was one of the elite, no one would ever find out his secret. His robe was as luxurious, gleaming white as the best. His locks shining like a dark resplendent crown upon his intelligent brow. As he laughed, joked or discoursed learnedly according to the occasion, his eyes twinkled with life; even they did not give away his deep dark secret.
Sunday, 29 March 2015
Wednesday, 4 February 2015
In the beautiful valley of Somewhere
Lies a woodland green and lush
Where the melody of a songbird
Scatters the evening hush.
The dewdrops are sparkling sweetly
On the bluebells, violets and rose
And through the slanting sunlight
A moss-covered footbridge shows.
Meandering footstones are leading
Leading me who-knows-where;
Sometimes through wild flower meadows
Sometimes near Wolf and the bear.
Flat rugged stones of beauty
Marking the pathway for me
But in the deepening darkness
They fade to obscurity
A tiny frail lantern is lifted
As I pick my way through the gloam*
This lovely, faint footpath I’ll cherish
For it is guiding me Home.