Round and round goes the circle cycle – with an ink spill on the run,
Discovery floating on a thread of words – while a verse of thought is spun!
Meandering thoughts of seldom seen memories – weaving a web of smiles,
Re-visiting moments of long lost adventure – stretching back miles and miles!
On past the Lakes and snaking the rise – with an ink spill on the go,
Up upon the pathway – Immortalised in a grainy picture – capturing the glow!
To a shelter standing with its crumbling walls – a home to hold the flame,
Waving our flags from the height of the brow – gathered as pin-pricks in a distant frame!
Dipping in and out of the pool of visions – with an ink spill on the loose,
Walking the mountains and the rolling hills – topping up the juice!
There’s a timeless wonder where memory serves – wandering of the trails,
Wild horses they play in a freedom display – as they dance and swish their tales!
Stepping back and forth in the growth of the trees – with an ink spill on the page,
Remembering the cross of gates with its Caravan – the backdrop and the stage!
The rolling marsh atop the sprawling hillside – with its trails blazed by sheep,
Left to moult as a guide for travellers – leading journeys out across the sweep!
The fire it painted patterns on the stone wall face – with an ink spill for the dark,
Night-lights highlighted little crevice caves – where a poet leaves his mark!
A week in solitude with the guest of friends – blowing smoke rings to the stars,
Rising with the dawn and its days of peace – where the sun it fades the scars!