The fresh green hills are beckoning,
A sign that Spring is here,
My broken heart lies torn within,
For you're no longer here,
And as I walk this woodland path,
Your memory is so clear,
Remembering how you walked with me,
The one I loved so dear.
I come across a favourite spot,
The place where Bluebells grow,
Without you now, it's not the same,
Oh how I miss you so.
I gather up the flowers, graced with morning dew,
Picked for you so tenderly,
Beneath the sky so blue.
I'll hold your love forever,
For memories truly last,
Your always here beside me,
Lets walk into the past.
Jayne Louise Davies
Wouldn't we all love to walk into the past, at one time or another? And would we walk that same path, or choose another? Very much enjoyed your poem...and thank you for commenting on my poetry, as well. I welcome all new poet friends. PEACE
Beautiful memories set in poetry and sounding musical when read. Love it! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely poem. Appreciated the brilliant comment of poetess Susan Lacovara. Top score and to my favourites