17 April 2017

Poetic Oxford

For oft I read within my nook
Such minstrel stories; till the breeze
made sounds poetic in the trees,
And then I shut the book.
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The bright scent of flowers
restores my heart
of heavy burdens, once carried,
now unloaded.
A tenderness of light 
shimmers through grey clouds,
perfect, natural, and soothing
for a long walk along hidden 
paths and craggy passages.
My heart finds that it soars and sings
here between these ancient walls and flowing gardens.
The contrast of stone and
green space holds my delight.
Showers of petals fall into my hair in the breeze, 
bringing spring elements in bold colour fluttering down.
How long have these trees been around to see life unfold
here in this spire-filled city?
Take away the modern and 
let me dwell in these
ancient halls of history.

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