Lakes
The purple tablecloth drapes the barren peaks
As Fall approaches and I watch the golden disc
Fall slowly from the sky as evening comes
Slipping beneath the sea until darkness envelops all
That from the east rises again to illuminate oaken slopes
Upon the pastures where I may watch grazing grey flocks
Who wander freely now between the ancient stones
That hold the memories of a past we search to find
When feasts marked seasons with their blazing fires
Memory crushed by the sandals of marching Roman feet
First invaders of these forbidding hills
Forts of stone now lie in ruins the invader long gone
Did Rheged’s lost kingdom once stand proud
Where Merlin himself trod upon these moors
Now banks of yellow daffodils grow in peace
Oak woods rise from their carpets of blue
How the painted scenery has changed
The whistle and those white clouds of steam
Carried the multitudes towards this paradise
Where John Peel with his old grey coat and mare
Portrayed the lifestyles of different times
In Cockermouth the pen flowed free
A record of such beauty was not allowed to sleep
Copyright: David Hopcroft June 2023
Park Bench Tales and other writings 
June 23, 2024 at 12:28 am
So beautifully and I might say lovingly, written, David! Your admiration for this historic place, is so easily felt in your details.
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