I know by heart that stretch of land
Where day and night tall pine trees stand
Guard to the ripening fields of wheat
That shift and roll like desert sand,
Or like the golden waves that meet
The pilgrim’s eye and, hasty, fleet
To join the pastures of the past.
I see the path beneath my feet
That runs uneven, slim, and fast
Toward the pines that shadows cast;
The moss that muffles summer’s breeze,
I see it all, down to the last
Brown needle fallen off the trees–
The land beyond the seven seas–
If only in my memories,
If only in my memories.
Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (aka Happy)
Written for WD Rubaiyat challenge
