Storrington re-visited.
How great thy vista to my eyes abound
when late of time, I viewed my Southland down,
fond childhood memories bid my heart recall,
times, when all the trees seemed so tall,
but now, the burning coals of fading day,
ignite twilight moments, where magic colours play,
and yon not forgotten village nestling lies
harmoniously, beneath its genial skies;
its people's thatch and heavens spire
are gently washed by sunsets living fire,
whilst graveyards cherished ancient Yew
reach down to kiss the coloured painted dew,
and evening primrose dwell within its shade,
sport contrasting hues with subtly displayed,
and all that sleep in hedgerows wild,
live freely, like as the spirit of a child,
whose innocence breathes the air of play,
of rapturous joy, like this ebbing edge of day,
to await morning's green mantle care,
as day dissolves, in all its wondrous flare,
such artistry each captured rainbow bring
the blushing tints of sweet remembering,
woolen clouds, there floating charms interlace
the chasing sun, warmth of time's everlasting grace.
So, when the breath of life's no more,
my spirit shall stay by the waters of the Stor.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2015
About this poem:
Storrington a village that derives its name from Saxon times, Stor being the stream running through, and ton a dwelling place. There I spent my childhood,recently I re-visited those bygone haunts, nestling still beneath the Southdowns, this my reflection.
Comments (14)
eternally draws us
ty for the share (((Phil)))
to the homeland across the English channel Phil.
Lovely work !
Regards Mick.
My sincere thanks for your lovely comment, beauty surrounds us, how fortunate we are to pen, however inadequate.
Phil.
Thank you for you continuing support and comments, so nice to share the beauty that surrounds us, for beauty generates beauty.
Phil.
Phil.
Phil.
Rob
Phil.