roxannewatson's Letters
Dear Ireland,
Over the rock-laden hills,
through the scrubby grass
and across the wild seas
you called my name,
you called to me alone.
You offered up your solace and solitude
as a refuge for reflection and healing,
holding up a mirror to my soul
And asking, who are you?
And I did not know.
But each day as I climbed
to the peak of Dun…read more
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