The Place We Loved To Rest

We walked along the the woodland path, The morning sun shone down, Pure nature on our doorstep, Above our valley town. Surrounded by the songs of birds, Wild flowers everywhere, That wonderful scent of Summer, Filled the morning air. Dad would walk on up in front, For he would guide the way, I would plod along behind, The highlight of my day, Was.. to pick the pretty flowers, That lined our woodland journey, Such happiness was felt back then, With beauty oh so near me. And as we walked to mountain high, We'd look down from that place, My Dad would turn and smile at me, I loved that happy face. We'd walk as far as we could go, For we had reached the top, We'd rest awhile, our favourite place, With sandwiches and pop. From there we'd view the valley scene, The village that we loved, High above the trees so green, My Dad told tales with love, Of when he was a young boy, His lovely Mum and Dad, He spoke so proudly of his life, With tears in his eyes. His love for their small village, As his young years passed him by. Those days I will remember, For they truly were the best, Those Summers on the mountainside, That place we loved to rest. Jayne Davies