Wednesday 15 December 2010

A Story from the Shire

Let us listen to the cold of all frosty morning mist, and taste the music of all sleepless woodland critters, who stand guard of life, till the merciful sun comes out, and start a life a new, in this great land, on this holy ground.
of all my life's dreams 
and all my journeys I've found 
never such a place of clear streams 
and full of fairies sounds 

dancing through the morning mist 
and blessing all diversion round, 
the holy oak and all clumsy girths, 
the loved shamrock and tragic daffodil 

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