The roads to home are filled with memories sweet
by Joyce George
Too long I've trod the busy city streets
Almost forgotten the skylark's piercing call,
Or the perfume of the lavender
Strong and sweet.
How could the memories of the flint stone walls of
cottage be so dimmed
Or white sails of the little boats escape my mind
But I have found a calm so long denied
For I have trod again the roads to home.