You don’t walk across the moors.
So much as wear them,
like your favourite Sloppy Joe’s
an old armchair that’s a perfect fit.
where the horizon is always in the distance
beckoning you on,
Continue reading at Books and Bonsai
You don’t walk across the moors.
So much as wear them,
like your favourite Sloppy Joe’s
an old armchair that’s a perfect fit.
where the horizon is always in the distance
beckoning you on,
Continue reading at Books and Bonsai
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Anita was thinking of you and your love of the moors when she wrote this poem…
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I could feel that, Jaye. I think that’s why it got to me 🙂
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Reblogged this on Books & Bonsai.
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This is wonderful. I’m a moorland girl too 🙂 🙂
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Heather in the blood? 🙂
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Could well be! Though it fights with the Polish connection 🙂 🙂
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It is rather nice to be an international creation 🙂
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