WINDERMERE REMINISCED

 WINDERMERE REMINISCED

Peter Woodgate 

Blues and whites and pinks are seen

From houses on the mountain green

That circumvents the lake and sky

A scene that visits you and I

These mornings as I open wide

The shutters, now securely tied

To greet the warm and gentle breeze

That drifts across my face, I sneeze,

Then look back at the bed and you

And see you have awoken too.

Then, softly, I caress your face

You turn around and we embrace,

I whisper that I love you, then,

We hear the chiming of Big Ben.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate