In fields where silence once held sway, Now echoes of the past remain, The poet’s pen, a gentle guide, Through…
In the quiet whispers of the past, Her gentle voice lingers long, A melody in the morning’s breath, A silent…
In fields where whispers once took flight, The echoes of the past reside. Seamus, with a pen like gentle might,…
In the quiet fields where shadows play, Her gentle voice would softly say, The stories woven through the air, A…
In the quiet of the morning light, Where shadows dance with gentle grace, A poet’s voice takes flight, Whispering through…
In fields of green, where shadows play, Heaneyâs words paint a troubled day. Echoes of past, in verses clear, Whispering…
In the golden fields of memory, she stands, Her hands, weathered, yet tender, weave dreams, Each line, a story, each…