My return doth find me wandering hill and dale.
Ten years have passed from whence I did set sail,
and as I crest the peak of Cotham Hill,
fore my eyes a field of naught but Daffodils.

Their vibrant yellow dazzling the sun.
A fanfare of golden trumpets play as one.
I sit amongst them with no further plans to roam,
for in this spring time field of beauty lies my home.