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Motorbike Days And Summer Ways.
From long ago pages, in memory's book
I read of those magical journeys we took.
Along the hedge draped lanes we'd ride
Darkening woods on either side.
Past rolling mists over sunset fields,
Where lakes of sparkling ripples shone.
Buttercup meadows, sprigged with bees,
The boxing hares with leap and tease.
Old Surrey cott's with white hives hidden,
Whence summer's hands held perfume sweet,
Carried to Heaven from age old flowers
Woven in time through leafy bowers.
The deepning mist carried silver chill,
As blackbird dripped his liquid trill.
Yet loath to leave, we turned for home
moonbeams cutting tree bough'd gloam.
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Old memories often sweetens the bitter present mind
Old memories often sweetens the bitter present mind.Lovely thoughtful sharing.A nice post to enjoy and dwell in.........Indeed,the whispers of immortality.. some memories never fade.Though I often forget where I left my shaving kit
©bishu
Thank you very much,
Thank you very much, appreciate you taking the time to comment. Old memories are sweet, maybe because the chance to make more is slipping away.