WHERE THE SKYLARKS SING

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The summer breezes balmy,

Brought cotton clouds to rest,

They drifted aimless, some were caught,

Upon the mountain crest,

The maid was plucking flowers,

Her shoulder turned aside,

To hide the blush upon her cheek,

Was it a flush of pride?

That I should speak of poetry,

And sonnets for her heart,

Create a word-spun spider web,

That brings romance to art.

Gay, she stepped through flowers,

Beguiled and won my soul,

I chased till she had caught me,

We both then reached our goal.

She sat her chin within her hands,

Then smiled a thought unknown,

I closed my eyes and dreamed that she,

Might one day be my own?

We felt the heather in the air,

We heard the skylark sing,

The curlew’s call to higher realm,

Where seagulls rest their wing.

In her hands the harvest,

Of pastures summer filled,

Across the vale, the dingle dale,

Where summer flowers spilt.

To ripple, dance to summer’s tune,

The ocean’s breathing sigh,

Where skylarks sing and flowers grow,

And maiden lovers lie.

Mícheál Walsh Poetry

THE SOUL MATES by award-winning writer Michael Walsh. Influenced by the paranormal power of a betrayed wife who had since passed to the other side a tender romance to challenge convention.  Enjoy the mystery with closed eyes and an open mind to consider the morality of taboo romantic relationships. When you reach the last revealing chapter the message on the tombstone will shock you. LINK TO BOOK https://feji.us/neq7ql