The Hills Stand Sentinel to My Recollections
It's a glorious slice of England where time stood still and had no consequence whenever the work was met.
Those golden hours of summer sun locked and wrapped in sun-blessed bails, dressing every hillside, where the magnificent Malvern Hills stand sentinel to my haven - looking down on every side.
The old dirt trail runs along, past rustic style, to a secluded St James' Chapel, just as was.
In front of the exclusive conversions - luxury flats that now share my view.
I wonder - will they ever know that this was once my legacy?
Farm of my childhood. Forever gone. Lost.
- Category: True Stories Told As Fiction
4 comments add one below
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Jamie Clapperton 5 months ago
I have read this more than once and will read again as it feels like visiting a place.. Thank you MI love it when a piece of writing does that.Thank You Michael.
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Jamie Clapperton 5 months ago
Apologies for clumsy typing.
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Michael Cunliffe 5 months ago
Not at all. Thank you, Jamie. I haven't been able to get any reading time in here, of late, as busy renovating a couple of properties for use by refugees. Hopefully, over the Christmas break!
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Frenchie 4 months ago
Oh my! I love this. I could close my eyes and see the place.
Beautiful and sad. The best combination. Thank you!
