I smooth out the familiar parchment of your life - gently - with the flat of my hand,
and run my finger along bridle-paths, looking like dried riverbeds etched in sand.
All the valleys, glens and the hills that I follow, are now so well-known to my touch,
I will never get lost, nor miss the signs that lead to the places I love so much.
Down each lane I can travel, draw my hand through downs, caress smooth, undulating plains.
Then move through sheltered places, rest a while, enjoy the peace of mind my life then gains.
For no matter the paths my fingers trace, nor if I wander from the beaten track,
I'll not fail to find the highest point on your map, nor forget which roads lead me back.
I have neglected this site recently. Thanks for reading, glad you could relate to it.
Sorry for the delay I have neglected this site for a while. Thank you for reading and relating.
Better late than never, thank you for reading this, and for, your kind comments
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks for your added comment Tessa. Anne S.