I went awandering in prickly ditches
Where childhood's bloody scratches pockmarked skinny legs
Deceptive pretty wild rose shrubs reminding
How orange skins uncovered painful quills
...
I see them going to and fro
Exploring this and that
They chant, they stretch, they twist their necks
And lie on rubber mats
...
They say the woods of Alba
Grow secrets in their soil
And Perigord's fair regions
Hide rarest mushroom spoils
...
The day wears down
The light is fading
The afternoon
A hazy thought
...
Kindness did not enter
Linen damask silver rooms
Men and women dressed in silk
Never noticed
...
We wandered down a narrow lane
My friends and I that day
Just having lunched in a small bar
That time had worn and frayed
...
There is a land called Highlands
Where cattle, citrus thrive
White orange blossoms languish
In rolling hills alive
...
They say you can't go home again
I say that they are wrong
How often do I spend my hours
In childhood's sunny fields?
...
I saw a sailboat on the shelf
A beauty to behold
How could I get it for myself
Inspiring dreams untold
...