I miss Scotland
and my friends
who took me around
by bus and by foot,
through gardens and gargoyles
past castles and river walks
when the rain stopped and
the yellow flowers bloomed
golden across empty glens
deep in the highlands
cutting a path for the ancients
beyond easter aquhorthies
and hotel portmahomack
where we sang and we danced
and ate our cheese toasties
out on the beach,
raising a cloud
in glasses made clear,
watching the dolphins
as they swam in the sea
and filled us with gladness,
magic and promise,
the wisp of tomorrow
I carry today

Published by Doug Hoekstra

Father, wordsmith, musician, creative.

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