...when I am home.

[vagabond]

When I am home and in my bed,
familiar things around my head,
I know I will remember these:
Sitka's sighs in salty breeze,
skirling gulls on wind-wild days;
sun-gold water wedged 'tween haze
and Raasay Sound, sparked bright with foam;
when I am back in bed at home.

When I am home and in my bed,
I'll dream I'm in this land  instead;
prone Rona's peaks proud capped in snow,
hoist from the soft-sprung peat below.
From every cleft  sweet water swells
to flow in burns through quiet dells.


These things I hold, like words unsaid,       
when I am home and in my bed.

i think memories are not like words unsaid... they happened. so:
"unbound from time and space and yet
i am just in my home in bed"                
... no, that´s not suggestion, maybe not even inspiration.


When I am home and in my bed
awake, yet dream-strange  tears I shed.
Each by each bring memories
of floating eagles, tumbling screes,
mirrored mountains, salmon's wakes,
flame-flushed air before day breaks,
heather smoke that drifts and mists
the dour, drab Skye, where sunlight flits,
long after shadows lay blurred lines,
across the cladding, darkening pines.
All things persist; asleep or dead,
when I am home and in my bed.

tectak
Callakille2017

i like the reiteration of the same line, just like you always have to come down from every beautiful high that we can add to that collection we call life.
but i also like the slight variation in the end of the first verse, perhaps you could follow through with this in the other verses (maybe something like "when I´m home lying in my bed" oor "when I´m home dreaming in my bed"
there´s love in your images, so i believe the tears in the third verse are happy tears.