No room for stammers,
Like a sledgehammer, it strikes and buries feelings long felt, now with foundations.
Driving with one eye on the speed,
One eye on your leg, I reach over and feel myself drift away, lost.
A castle, not overthrown for many a century.
It becomes ours within minutes,we both wish to go further.
Bright lights, loud noises, a festival of colour and beauty.
I could spend hours in your beautiful sanctum.
Proud creatures stand tall,
As one old horse teaches us the meaning of the water that slides below.
A garden so loved, yet still overlooked.
The highlight of many cuddles, the smell of love, lust and lemons.
One horned and one regal,
The capturing of a mood, one that will linger ereforth.
To giants, and knights and “flesh wounds”
Or to the potential salmon wriggling free by our intrusion.
A petroleum spill, made real in rock.
A garden of hope, love and joy, we lay a stone for our joined heart.
Before such sanctuary, home of homes, a single rock we take, and salute the piper.
The Devil’s crag. A test indeed.
The rain flew upwards, until we turned and reached our lodge.
The plans oft forgotten, leading to unexpected fruit.
Prizes of confection and love, for that is dear Callander.
The twin, o’er Vale and Loch
Ovine dude, so very chilled, as his brother, whom you touched.
The long road home. It still goes on
Until we cannot run, this place, together, is Heaven.