The Hills That Cradled

Under the suns watchful gaze

In hedged field or

Long grassed valley

I would run

The evening air

Warm and sweet


The rolling green

The dips and peaks

Surveying the endless heaven

Stick in hand

Joy in heart


Winters morning dew and mist

Till Summers breeze through hair

did kiss

We were Emperors of

Farm and wood


Mighty as the oak

Humble as the leaf

As if carried by stream and brook

Childhood and youth the fields took


My days are now filled with grey and black

An old man longing for memories back

I'm so tired

Satisfied by nothing I see

I yearn for those ancient times