poetry & things

In the hallowed hills

When we were very far

and young, in a place with no roads to follow

only a winding path, a branch to grasp

a place to fill the hollow

Blue the summer, with drowsy daisies came

petals, petals, we drew circles round the sun

gold spun, our halo heads of pollen

gold the bees of sleepy flowers

amid clover grass heaven

Days we lived deep in hills

we were endless green, in unmapped countries

stretching past the farms afield, in other worlds

too far to see, we lived beyond the gray of days

and we were free, in the shining silver

of our hallowed hills of ever

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