The Scottish Highlands are all aglow
The windswept rains on heather rows
The scotch broom shade falls on the late spring snows
The lost love cries out as if to show
my love is lost, it will not flow
With passing eve 'with love' she grieves
the crush of leaves from last year's bloom
Under her shoe and in her comb
Her heart melts with the coming night
The hearth is warm until first light
She gathers roses, she makes her bed
And always dreams of things she said
What changed his heart as if to flee
Like the grouse in flight towards the sea
The curtains rustle in the breeze
Starched white and filled with airs
Is he with her or does he dare?
The ships at anchor await the tide
they drift in slumber as he tries to rise.
The tempest beckons for one last kiss....
Away, away he picks up the tune
'lest we forget the ruling moon'
The horns point west as if to say
'Fair winds ye lads of the day'
In highland heather its there she stays
She walks and talks and somewhat prays
For the lad, herself
who could not stay....
The mists of morning are a drenching dew
That run from the sun
And the calling ewe
Reminding all of the aching two
That lasts and lasts until the day
they meet again in love's way
To fall together in each others arms
Smiling laughing safely warms
The sleeping cat upon the window sill
The morning sun dispels the chill
The life lived full is the life God wills
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