Our Time

Pleasant fields of gentle views, Corn of gold that stretches far, I sit alone and think of you, It's times like this, I miss you more. Tender breeze upon my face, Brings back yet more memories, Of our time, we walked this place, Through the apple blossom trees. I hear the calls from trees afar, Birds nest there, It is their place, I so wish you were here with me, Your presence gone without a trace. Many times I will come back, For here I hold sweet memories, Walking down this lonely track, Sensing your spirit, A longing to see. Jayne Louise Davies