Same Sky II (My Square Mile)
I love my square mile, so tranquil and calm,
In an otherwise flat county of concrete and grime.
Am I being too harsh? Perhaps a tad unfair?
The years total fourteen, but only three in my square.
An unhappy span were the other eleven,
My perpetual urge to return to my haven.
The need is still with me, simply will not go away,
Yet diluted a little, my square keeps it at bay.
My square has a church at the top of the hill,
Picturesque in the sun and the snow too until
Grey clouds gather above the roof and its spire,
They rest on me too and make me so very tired.
Above the bell tower the grey sometimes turns blue,
And the pine tree in the graveyard works hard to subdue
The urge to head north - to back whence I came
The chiming bell bellows - the sky above you is the same.
A wild rugged path surrounds the garden of dead,
The contrast so obvious it needn’t be said
That this lovely place has a beauty so surreal
That is sealed and felt deep when you get to the fields.
My square has a farm filled with barley and crafts,
Folks and their kids having fun hear them laugh.
I can laugh too, when I’m there it’s a pleasure
To live where I live and with no need to measure.
To measure the gap between my square and there.
There is my family, friends and the landscape I care
For more than myself and anyone that I know,
A profound connection to which I will not let go.
And then there’s my garden with its heavenly view
Of the fields, the wildlife and the Church spire too.
Distant cars can be heard on the busy artery,
With my eyes closed I forgive them as they sound like the sea.
There’s a pub with a garden near a common with a pond
That nearly succeeds to loosen my bond.
There’s another with oak beams and locals who chat
About our dog and my accent, I pronounce my vowels flat!
Our home on the hill is a delight to behold,
The pine tree, the blossom and the fireplace that sold
Me the notion of staying a while longer if I dare,
In this rural sanctuary, our secure little square.
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