Up, On the Downs
I walked the land so walked before
Now used for peace, once used in war
Breathed the air so crisp and clear
Where beacons lit to spread the fear
The trees three hundred years old
Trust bought, so they cannot be sold
The rich gave up what the poor pay nought for
Is what our parents died and fought for
Give thanks to all who came before
For on their shoulders we can soar
So children learning, gentle flowers
Can grow in strength and climb on ours
And we can take our place as dust
Continue the story as we must
Tell the stories we were told
Like trees three hundred years old...
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Author:
Andrew Charles Forrest (
Offline) - Published: April 25th, 2021 09:40
- Comment from author about the poem: When life gets too big... Climb a hill and remind yourself just how small we are
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 38
Offline)
Comments3
Good write Andrew.
Nice wee story anything about trees does foe me 😁
If only those trees could talk we would hear some wondrous stories Andrew. May you walks always be wonderful.
Andy
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