Aide Memoire

[Keith]

Bring to me a torn white heather, that I may recall the brae.
Lay in my hand a Black Grouse feather, better to relive the day.
Pour for me a glowing whisky, constant comfort through the years.
Take me where they smoke-cure salmon, excuse for sudden welling tears.
Then play for me the pipes 'till gloaming, fill the spaces left to fill
and I will carry this land in me...today, tomorrow, always, still.
tectak
Glen Moriston
2014

This makes me wish I felt this passionate about a place such as this, very much enjoyed he splendid internal and subtle end rhymes. Best Keith