Through fringed grasses, frothing cow parsley
Narrowing like an arrow head
The long, straight path runs it's course;
Pointing to the water tower
Serene in the Sunday sky
With aprons of buttercups and gorse;
And reaching with heavenly arms
Under a veil of stubborn cloud
Stand the innocent trees,
From within, a peaceful warbling
The notes like cherry blossom
Falling away on the breeze;
And my feet follow yours
Every step of the way
On, to sacred tomorrows,
Until the sun shall cease to shine
The winds all blown away
And this life drawn to a close.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great Write.....a delightful trip. Thanks