It was a warm sunny day.
The sun like a warm breast,
Soft against my cheek.
There was a fantastic mackerel sky
painting the blue.
The mountains were golden
Like eagles wings.
I walked by the hum of the river
And thought of you and I.
As I walked, the sun made love
Through the trees.
I remembered the touch of your hand
As I held it in mine....
I remembered our kiss whilst walking
Through the whiskey ambered leaves
That made the sound of dancing lips.
The smell of steaks in passageways
Came from the graveyard of white
Caravans along the riverbank.
The sweet tobacco-like fragrance
Of peat filtered about the Old Bridge Of Tilt;
made me think of summer holidays
When I was a young lad in Orkney.
I could have written a sonnet
Of birdsong for you;
The songs of thrushes.
Timeless and always sweet
You come to my mind.
The day was wonderful but I wished
That I had spent it just one
More time with you.
©Jack Aylward,
18/4/14
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC
It was a warm sunny day.
The sun like a warm breast,
Soft against my cheek.
There was a fantastic mackerel sky
painting the blue.
The mountains were golden
Like eagles wings.
I walked by the hum of the river
And thought of you and I.
As I walked, the sun made love
Through the trees.
I remembered the touch of your hand
As I held it in mine....
I remembered our kiss whilst walking
Through the whiskey ambered leaves
That made the sound of dancing lips.
The smell of steaks in passageways
Came from the graveyard of white
Caravans along the riverbank.
The sweet tobacco-like fragrance
Of peat filtered about the Old Bridge Of Tilt;
made me think of summer holidays
When I was a young lad in Orkney.
I could have written a sonnet
Of birdsong for you;
The songs of thrushes.
Timeless and always sweet
You come to my mind.
The day was wonderful but I wished
That I had spent it just one
More time with you.
©Jack Aylward,
18/4/14
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