Monday, 3 January 2011

Another World

A cool breeze
Wafts through fields
Green, gold and brown.
What he sees
The country yields
To the tourist from town.

They can't realise
The pace of life
Is slowed right down,
Nor why those eyes
Are focussed on the wife
Of the tourist from town.

Every tensed muscle
Relaxed in the green
And, oh, what a pity
That amid all the bustle
Only grey can be seen
By men in the city.

A country lane
Twisted to a sign
Where two tracks parted.
He turned to the right
Then came back again
To the very same sign
Back where he started.

Yes, those fields of green
That form our countryside,
Where pastel colours flow unfurled,
Are by many people seen
Not as a place to abide -
But quite another world.

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