HERITAGE of the COLONIAL PAST
By Leah C DancelI would remember the hills
Turned into a field of daffodils;
And mounds of copious snowdrops sparkling in dewy dresses ...
Dancing and swaying in dreamy breeze.
Gentle winds passed by as the days roll-on ...
Pleased to see how the blossoms glow
In vibrant colours such congenial charms,
Greeting every moment a shower of loveliness.
The tulips in columns arose with pride
And hyacinths blooming in stark contrast beside
While huddling together in their beds
White, orange, and yellow; overshadowed by crimson red.
On rocky grounds crocus were sprouting; dwarfed by shady old trees;
On gracious spaces once a home to a hundred thousand sheep:
Meek and mild such sweet tempers of the flock
Grazing green grasses in contentment out in the paddock.
Meanwhile, there in the cobbled isles,
A watery park mirrored a reflection of the wand'ring clouds and sun;
Below the sky, wild ducks swam in muted nonchalance,
Mindful for its pensive silence.
The charming way of mini lakes paved a flowing stream
Down to the pond where black swans shared a place with the mighty obelisk.
Aloof from the rumbling noise of the world,
This Ancestral sacred land would remain a heritage from the colonial past.
© Leah C. Dancel
Copyright© February 14, 2022
All rights reserved
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