The trail

a poem by Charles Fisher, UK

Moorland blooms emanate
Scents that float in the hilly air;
Come near, those purple sweetest scents,
Towards the hillwalker, who made her way:
Along the well walked trail, beside the
Forests of purples blooms that fill,
The empty sky above Greenock town.
The purple flowers ships mask arise, like
Travelers in the sea current air; befriend
Her heart with fond pleasures, pleasurably
She made her along the track; like others
So long ago; reflected the same moorland scent



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