The Mossend Mine
While walking near the Mossend mine
I chanced upon a flower
I stopped and stared at beauty spent
and passed away the hour
Her leaves were yellow daffodils
where bees would pass the time
watching men go underground
While entering the mine
Her stem did sway with summer breeze
she slumbered on the brink
like a burdened miner walks
whilst thirsting for a drink
Suddenly a voice I heard
transported back in time
young men with blackened faces walked
deep inside that mine
Awaking, flowers, buttercups
Blessed me on my way
Whilst haunting thoughts of distant past
I carried through my day
So if a flower does call you back
to places, lands of yore,
dwell not in the realm of dreams
take only what is yours
Perhaps your flower is yet to come
in mountain, thoughts or clime
ne’er mind the times of centuries old
now is your only time