This feeling reaches down inside of me
and squeezes my heart so tightly.
My soul yearning to return to the place
where I set my heart and spirit free.
Each and everyday I find myself day dreaming
of being there once again.
I want to go back
and chase my shadow over the hills.
Sit below the trees in the woods
and dream my day away.
My magical place where poets once pondered
and wrote from the heart their inspired works.
And I too, felt what they felt.
Though they are long dead,
I know the secret of their inspiration.
I saw through their eyes.
For the woods are filled with faeries and spirits.
They must be.
Those spirits whispering in their ears,
coaxing them to write down the magical experience.
Giving them the words to describe the magic so clearly.
And I miss those wonderful days
As I sit here, three thousand miles away.
(17 November 1998)