Will America Remember Me? 
Will America remember me, as I remember Her?
Remember when I trod her soil,and way we were?
Will she weep a silent tear, as I do each day,
Knowing that I can't be there, on this very special day?
Does She know a year ago, I walked her golden sand?
Can she ever realise, how loved is her sweet land?
Will America remember me, the way I gently do?
With love inside my beating heart that's ever real and true?
Will She spend the day like me, in silent quiet prayer?
Wishing one day to return, wishing I was there?
Will America remember me, or did She now forget?
The soaring of the engines roar, flying in a jet?
Touching down in sunshine, to be back again one day?...
Can America recall my life, a year ago today?
A Little Bridge In Wales. 
When I was growing up, sat on my fathers knee,
So many childhood stories, he would relate to me.
The home he lived in then, was a tiny Inn in Wales
Lots of visons he portrayed, among the funny tales.
He overlooked a river, and a large but pretty weir,
He'd tell to stop and listen, and cock my tiny ear...
And I would hear the water, rushing fast downstream..
It set in my heart a vision, not at first what it would seem.
I vowed to one day visit, the bridge, and flowing river,
A tribute to a special well loved story giver...
And so when Dad had passed, I visited this town,
Took pictures of the river at this place of such renoun,
The birthplace of my father, where he grew up as a lad,
The Welsh " Land Of My Fathers", the home of my sweet Dad.
Going Home. The days are fast approaching, the time is drawing near,The waiting it is over now, the passing of each year,My heart is filled with poetry, my vision focused clear,I've cast the final waiting sigh, I've cried the final tear.My bags are packed and waiting, my joy second to none,I'm heading off to Florida, I'm chasing summer sun,I know it will be wonderful, I know it will be fun,I am a happy person now, I am a greatful one.I know it sound peculiar , but where in life I roam,The USA envelopes me, some grand protective dome,These days are such a blessing, not feeling so alone,I really am returning, at last I'm going home.A Traveling Girl The world is a place of great beauty,I need to get out and explore,There's places which fire up my senses,And places I know I'd adore.The wanderlust gnaws at my being,I seem to have rooted too long,I want to explore different places,Which I know, deep inside, isn't wrong.I want to write lots of new poems-About places that I've never been,I want to describe different sunsets,Sunsets, so far, yet unseen.I'd like to take off and go fishing,Or stroll down a leafy green lane,I'd like to kick sand at the ocean,Do something that isn't the same.To stroll gently through cool leafy hollow,Pick bluebells in some quiet wood,I'd like to explore somewhere different,My goodness, if only I could!I'd like to explore ancient buildings,Take pictures of places so old,I'd like to sit down in the sunshine,Instead of just here in the cold.I'd like to view art in the cities,And rest at a pavement cafe,Just for once, I could climb up a mountain,To view the arrival of day.I'd like to sit down by a camp-fire,And view all the stars of the night,And sit with my pen and my notebook,Enjoying to sit there and write.Describing the scene which surrounds me,In poems so real and so true...I'd like to see place untravlled,I'd like to see places so new.My desire isn't odd, I assure you, It is not quite as strange as it seems,The places I long so to visit,I see every night in my dreams.Land Of My Father Theres a castle on a hillSomewhere far awayA place I went to visit onceAnd will again one day.Nestled on a hilltopWith the valley just belowBeside a tiny tumbling streamThis place I love to go.The birthplace of my fatherSet in fields of greenBeloved Wales you hold for meSuch beauty yet unseen.All should get to see youAnd taste your sweet romanceIf nothing else, before I die,I'm glad I got the chance.Wales will always hold a magical memoryfor me. The most beautiful country inEurope without exception, with scenery justbreathtaking. I have been many times, butwrote this poem after a 1997 visit.
Norfolk On A Summers Day
Still waters meet the rushes
And the sky is powder blue,
I wonder if you think of me
The way I
think of you?
The windmill sails caress the sky
The air is filled with sounds,
Of water and of birdsong,
As
nature it abounds.
The boats traverse the waterways
So gracefully they glide,
And my heart so full with restful peace
And
a joy down deep inside.
Norfolk on a summers day Who could ask for more? A soft blue rug, a fishing rod, And to sit
beside the shore.
This Paradise Of Mine.
This very special morning
Which God has given me
Such
beauty in each vision
With everything I see.
The palms they stretch for miles
Along the golden shore
I asked for
pure perfection
But what I got was more.
A tranquil way of living
A place which feels so right
The same stars
which I see at home
Flicker in my sight.
The moistened air is warming
Enveloping my soul
Instead of feeling incomplete
Today
I just feel whole.
I cannot think to leave it
This paradise of mine
It will remain within my heart
Until
the end of time.
The American Dream. 
Warm summer morning
New day is dawning
Brightness surrounding
Joy is abounding.
It's real, it would seem,
The American dream
I know it is true
For I touched it with you.
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Florida Memories 
On a sundrenched beach in Florida
I sat there on a bench
Watching all the world go by
To leave would be a wrench.
Sunset on the water
Ocean powder blue
Summer flowers in blossom
In every special hue.
Butterflies were floating
Around the summer air
While being here in Florida
I didnt have a care.
Take me back again some day
Let me feel inside
The bliss and love for Florida
I know I cannot hide.
Foxy Lady
The sun was beating down through a blue Wisconsin sky,
The weather was just perfect, for an American goodbye.
The breeze was drifting slowly, slightly blowing through my hair,
Traversing the Fox river, I just didnt have a care.
Cocktails on the upper deck, sipping them so slow,
Viewing all the places that we couldnt get to go.
Taking in the view, on this morning in July,
Sights and views so beautiful, they almost made me cry.
Foxy Lady carried me, and carried all my dreams,
A silver gift more precious than it ever really seems....
It lives within my memory, forever and a day,
A memory I know inside, within my heart will stay.
Farewell Foxy Lady, maybe we'll see you one more time....
The day we spent within your decks, was really just sublime.
In pleasant memory of a silver wedding gift of a trip aboard "The Foxy Lady"...Green Bay, Wisconsin.
July 2004.
Sicilian Dream 
A Crystal moon was hanging
In a dark blue velvet sky
Streetlights shimmer everywhere
Reflecting in my sigh.
Distant sounds of ocean
Will echo in my ears
Silencing the movement
Of my ever silent tears.
Sicily in August -
What a place to be!
When summer sun is beating down
Reflecting in the sea.
Many months have passed me by
And I'm so far from home
But even in this distant place
I never feel alone.
Memories of the time I lived in Italy ( Sicily ),
aged 16-17. I had my 17th birthday where
the above picture was taken, at Taormina,
beneath the smouldering volcano of Mt Etna.
This poem was written on the eve of my 17th birthday.
This England 
This land of gold, with knights of olde, this England.
With fields of green, and skies serene, this England.
This coloured hue, where dreams come true, this England.
This pretty place, of ancient grace, this England.
This heroes land where fear is banned, this England.
This place of fire, and sweet desire, this England.
This Royal land, which holds my hand, this England.
This dream awhile, this sceptered isle, this England.
This home of mine, this place divine, this England.
Forever loved, blessed from above, My England.
England.
Where the North sea meets the sky, and you hear the seagulls cry,
And the sunsets are a pleasure,and the people are a treasure,
Where the fields are forest green, with a beauty seldom seen,
This is England.
There are scenes which make you sigh, oh so easy on the eye,
There are winding country lanes,and tiny cottage window panes,
You might feel the summer rain, in a heat you cant explain,
This is England.
In the winter theres the snow, as you sit by firelights glow,
Crisp and even on the ground, nothing prettier can be found,
And the robin with red breast, he's outsinging all the rest,
This is England.
In the Spring the snowdrops grow, often pushing through the snow,
Daffodils will follow soon, as apple blossoms starts to bloom,
As I glance at such a view, everything seems fresh and new,
This is England.
Sunset On The Bure. 
Sunset on the river Bure
Watched through the reeds and willow,
This vision is the perfect cure
Resting head on a leafy pillow.
The bitterns call, the peewits cry,
And a lark he sings as he swoops on high,
The billowing sails casting shadows long,
Across fields of crops, as they flap their song.
The dewy grass between tickling toes,
And the sweet aroma of a summer rose,
Nothing is sweeter, nothing more pure,
Than the beauty of sunset, on the river Bure.
Dancing Fish 
Dancing fish you dance for me
Within my morning view
Dancing with just pure delight
Into waters blue.
Dancing fish I watch you
Leaping to the sky
Free to go where'ere you wish
Within the USA.
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