Another poem that's just for fun. This one was inspired by one of many wonderful experiences a good friend and I enjoyed on a holiday in Scotland last summer.
The mountains before us are elegant grey;
The evening sun hovers, low, crisp and bright.
Our little boat carries us, bobbing, away
From the harbour, aglow in the soft summer light.
Someone speaks first - I don't know who -
A casual remark met with friendly reply;
Like the clear sea around us your eyes sparkle blue
And we marvel together at " 'bonnie pink sky".
Our fresh-faced delight drinking everything in;
Our rucksacks, camera and footwear still smart
Seem gaudy against your nonchalant grin
And give us away as not from these parts.
But you have the easy air of a native,
Of one who's been sculpted by life in this place -
With weather-worn hands, gently abrasive,
And crag-like cracks in your ruddy grey face.
Our fervour, though passioned, has hastily grown;
Yours, much more subtle, is bedded in deep.
By your heart this land is most thoroughly known -
Every contour and castle, each secret it keeps.
The jetty approaches, brings an end to our meeting;
A quick local tip, and we wave our goodbyes.
But I'll always remember this friendship, most fleeting,
In Oban, with Tom, and his sparkling blue eyes.
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