They reside in my memories warm yet veiled 

These spectres of a caring past held tenuous 

In a time addled brain of mixed account

Where scraps of love and tatters of care

Are windblown by the storms of present

Havoc manifest by media recounts of

Ogres stomping on the lives of many

These my wondrous loves of joyous past

These brilliant practitioners of an art

Not widely valued but nonetheless vital

To all who take the time to revel in their 

images colours thoughts and verse 

They are the touchstones the beacons

That guide me in my quest to self

Fulfilment peace and still of soul

Read their verse hear their voice

Country Fog Ashe and Jamsbo

Among the myriad brilliant  stars

Are guideposts eternally found

Among these pages held so dear

Not lost but veiled carefully 

Awaiting your sextant to bring

Them to your lost horizon

Their treasures spilled at your feet