The Dress Circle Seat
The loch had lain like platinum in the winter sun
reflecting corries, clefts, and scree
that tumbled ever downward
to lie upon the gritty shore...
the snowbound hills held silence captive
while woods of twisted pines sprawled,
their searching roots coiled in moss
where I loved to sit all those years ago
when I had dreams of fame on a velvet curtained stage
where ripples of excitement fluttered progamme pages
in applauding hands
beneath my hands the velvet still held my
childhood memories of dance, when
I would sit wrapped close by theatre dark
and feel the ache of longing in my feet
and my heart, so full of music
beat a music of its own...
but my feet have danced other steps
in other lands to other music
and now on the curtained stage of life
words weave my dance
across the hills, beside the loch that still
lies like platinum, under a highland, winter sky...