One day out on the mountain
I was sitting on a stone
Seeing all there was to see
And some other things, unknown
When, holy cow, stone the crows
What do you know or say
A little man on horseback
Came trotting down the brae.
He had rosy cheeks and dimples
And a pert wee turned up nose
His curly golden locks fell down
Carelessly, I’d suppose.
His eyes sparkled devilment
His gaze was sharp and true
How are ye sir,this fine day?
I’d like a wee yarn wi’ you.
Nimbly he dismounted
And hopped up on my knee
He was about the size of fourpence
Two inches,maybe three
Nor was he shy or timid
As bold as brass could be
He clapped his hands together
Let’s get to it, now, says he.
I’ve come to you with an offer
A proposal, you might say
Someone I serve has chosen you
This could be your lucky day
She’s a princess of our people
Strode in your shadow many times
She’s followed you about the glens
She sees what’s in your mind.
But mostly she’s beheld you
Seated on this very stone
Looking through the distance
Into canyons of your own
It is in those lonely canyons
That she desires to dwell
Where you and she may wander
And of your secrets tell.
She can take what shape you want her to
She can cross both space and time
But she can never leave the mountains
While the heather blossom shinesChoose from the most used tags
She is beautiful and gentle
With a voice like Tuscan wine
She can ride the wind on horseback
Or on a nimbus cloud, recline.
You may count me too extravagant
Too generous I may seem
But the secret of my people is
We are cursed – we cannot dream!
And you, you art a dreamer
We believe you can break the spell
Reopen the gates of Paradise
For us,and for you as well.
But consider now,against all this
You must leave this life behind
And live with us for a thousand years
Beyond the grasp of time
I’ll be going on my way now
But I’ll be back this road again
Think long on my proposal
As you roam across the glen.
And when you’ve made your mind up
Come and sit back on this stone
A princess will appear to you
In an image of your own
And if ever in the meantime
You feel a soft breath on your brow
Our Princess steals among those dreams
Only you can disallow.
Then off he skipped , saluted
He cantered off down the hill
Astride his little connemara
With nothing but time to kill
And as he departed from my sight
The whole place was suddenly still
A breath of a breeze brushed by me
There came over me a strange thrill.
So I know, now,where I’m going
I know who shall walk with me
Beyond the hills and valleys
Where the braes meet Lisnacree
And wherever my soul may trespass
It is there my dreaming will be
Where the purple Mourne mountains
Stand over a mystic sea.
beatriceanddante 
Ah, that was beautiful. I met your daughter Sophie in the restaurant and she told me you were a poet, as am I, or at least try to, writing of love in cascading moonbeams.
Ah, but you, you have such talent. I must read more of you.
By the way, your daughter is a delight.
Mel
thank you for those kind words glad you enjoyed my little scribble.i will look up your writing.
i like a guy called W S Di Piero i came across recently,a new yorker. What have i got to lose
for example.pacy subtle evocative.and con brio as they say.write on .pearse.