Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Come Home

This one is by my dad. I got his permission to post a few of his poems here.

Come Home

Running gently on the heathered hill side
Ere the silent ghosts of vanished families abide
My feet tread softly on the hallowed ground
Of the pristine past that I have found

White capped mountains with swirling snow
Mark the rugged path where I must go
Gentle sheep lining my long and twisting trail
Greet me with bleats and bahs and wags of tail

Shining through gray dark rolling clouds
Their shafts of piercing light say to me aloud
Come and join us here in bonnie Scotland brave
Let the horrid callous world rant and scream and rave

By Greg High (posted here with permission from the author)

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