Home, for each one of us, is the best. Every single day I think of home and wait for the day when I can finally rest under the shade of the Rowan trees and hear the Cuckoo sing all day long.


Say, my land is best

Where the Rowan trees
Stain with their shadows,
The brown earth grey,
Concrete speckled gold.

Where the Cuckoo sings
It's unceasing melodies,
Like green Spring embalms,
Like Autumn boughs unfold.

Where the hearth is always warm,
Laughter rings
Like whistling wind
Through canopies bold.

I'll fly home; my heart'll find rest,
For I know, my land is best.

Come home; your heart'll find rest,
Say, my land is best.




Poetry by Amy Valentina
Read 152 times
Written on 2020-11-02 at 04:57

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jim The PoetBay support member heart!
You convey the magical, mythical call of home perfectly.
2020-11-02


ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
A well expressed work, Amy.
Ken D

Language: 5
Format: 4
Mood: 5
Overall: 4
2020-11-02