Ashwell
In hollow, sat sheltered under great Ash, protective of her ancient springs that bubble through chalk into small gravelled stream, she holds court over her neighbouring hamlets and villages like a mythical queen she rules, friendly yet a sight of strength and prosperity.
Her ancient walls and mossed thatch do show signs of a regal past, a past of greatness and importance, from lanes walked a thousand years and great spur stones that sit on corner verge, a past of untold tales, of people both rich and poor, to be a child of her I'm so proud.
To me she stays my home, my playground, my safe haven where my childhood grew and my head did learn, where respect for her people was taught and love for her form grew strong, a perfect place for my final sleep she I hope will one day be.
Wow, Rob, I've got goosebumps. I want to be buried in such a peaceful place. It will have to be in Ireland, I want to be buried in one of the mass graves, where my people are buried. I would be home then.
ReplyDeleteI love your poetry Rob. You are truly talented - not only with what you produce with your hands, but, also what you write from the heart. Erika xx
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