Walking, poetry written by Henry Bladon at Spillwords.com



written by: Henry Bladon


In my happy memories,

we walk towards the pond in the misty air,
we walk into the meadow and through the buttercups,
we walk on a carpet of leaves in the autumn,
and we walk through the churchyard covered with virgin snow.

I remember the wooden gate, the muddy path,
the hoar frost, the fierce wind, the freezing rain,
the blossoms and the budding cherry trees.

But all that is in my memories.

And now, I would give my heart for just one more walk with you.

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