This Time.
Holed with stary vermillion September\'s
clear night spreads eerie welcome over
my slowed footsteps.
Bounded by heathering hills the gentle
valley scents memory\'s ache
as my roots sink into home\'s velvet skin.
This time as I take in long-loved aroma
of moorland\'s lavender fringes
with twilight\'s finger striating late sky
my misty eyes glaze with
beguile and sounds of childhood arise
as low tide kisses coves.
At last pull of quiet pierces too long
an absence, punctures stale
failure to ask why, when abandoned
for wealth or early ambition
do feet turn again to needed familiar
where girl- lit the ghosts
of missed pleasures mingle with ache
and as nostalgia grows
and travelling yields to a settled pace
this time I know I must stay.