"There's no place like home." Poem, by Niall, at My poetic side

Running through the trees,

Flying fast as birds,

I am my father's child,

A stag grazing, treading cautiously across the ground.

My antlers grow through my fists,

I look to the Sun whenever I feel mad, and just breathe.

Home is the rolling hills of the cold, wet North,

Filled with the scent of pollen carried from the Yorkshire Moors.

The grass beneath my feet brushes against the skin,

A reminder of the roots I'm leaving behind.

Running through the trees,

My hair flowing in the wind like a cavalry flag

With a heart of marbled stone,

I'm home.

Comments +

orchidee January 18th, 2018 02:56
A fine write Niall. I got no moors where I am, but it's a country or riverside stroll for me! lol.
- niallprideauxJanuary 18th, 2018 11:47
  Thank you 🙂
Shayl May 30th, 2018 12:45
Really good write it brings out how some people are home.
- niallprideauxMay 31st, 2018 11:24
  Thank you x
- ShaylJune 4th, 2018 12:27
  your welcome
chaaz October 4th, 2018 07:23
This is great!
- niallprideauxDecember 24th, 2018 09:56
  Thank you 🙂

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"There's no place like home."