My Traveller

(And the Tale of Real Magic..)

In Hartford, Hereford, and Hampshire.

Past the will o’ the wisp

And a malevolent marsh…..

Beyond a great chasm

And torrent of trouble

And woolly winds harsh….

I met a traveller on his way…

By the light of a river

And a rainbow's sky

Somewhere near morning

Where the bluebirds fly

I met a traveller

and he kissed my heart

with his hands

Up in the clouds

Where the dreamers play

And buttercup toast beams hello

Through the trees of the town  

In a carousel park

He decided to stay

On his way…..

And with Sylvan tongue strands

Of magic and mirth

I sang to him

….my traveller

“Orange flushed rare and gilt

Parakeet sweet and aerial built

Is the bird I see

In you

And with…

Honey jasmine scaling

Oh Wild Ivy trailing

Blooms your gardens hue

My Kindred Traveller….

Your Melody, My harmony

Accompaniment

A symphony

Is the sound that

beats our drum…..

Your stories penned in brilliant hand

Where heart meets mind in one… 

And all of this my dear,

Is true

is true 

For Tis

For sure,

That is 

the man that lives in you,

To open mornings door…"

xx