A certain place always lingers on
Tugging at my heartstrings with longing
If I close my eyes and breathe real slow
I can almost imagine myself there
Amidst the rolling green hills
The tumbled and weathered ceremony-lands
The crisp autumn air carrying the welcome scent
Of rose buds and thyme in the morning
My blood runs wild with a feverish pride
In my history, my ancestry, my link to the glorious past
I consider myself an American
But in my heart
I will hold a special place for the most
Beautiful land of all
My dear, sweet Avalon, mythical home of ages past
My beloved, splendid, treasured
Land of the Celts
Written - 07:13-03; 10:30 AM
Posted - 08-18-03; 9:20 PM
Jenna White