journey to Scotland

williow herb purple plant
williow herb

With headphones jammed on my head

Music blaring into my ears

I tried to drown the voices

Those that chastise and jeer

That I should ache on a journey

On the same route

But without you, without you

I stare out at the meadows,

Rolling by, with sunshine spilling

Into the car

With me desperately making inane conversation.


“Is that not the willowherb that edges the fields?

The yarrow and the yellow celandines?

The purple heather that clothes the hillside

What is the latin name, I wonder?”


My mind busy trying

To ignore the sinews of my being

Telling me that I m missing you, missing you

Where is my inner equilibrium now?

They have failed me miserably;

My sang froid

My equanimity.

Should I sit cross legged

Try and expel you from my thoughts

With each breath I draw?

While here I am, still prattling on

Pretending to take in the border scenery.