Enchantment.
Summers of larks bred sun-torn
adventure all round the nest of my loved home
and scented dialect of childhood
still breathes its recall of well-trodden roaming.
Safest of havens steep-meadow
sheaves dried while playing made fantasy real,
hosts of wild visits fed nectar
to learning which now ghosts nostalgic dreams.
Autumn-red juiced my girlhood
and etched joyful vermilion into each breathless
hour where young fervour
found enchantment in freedom\'s best treasures.
Summers ago fragrant wealth
perfumed homeliness with cherished memories.