Ghostly Images
somewhere high on a moor in Scotland
ghostly images dance to a fiddler’s tune
bracken and heather surround them
As they spin and leap and swoon
fronds extend their eerie fingers
mimicking dead hands of the past
a bonfire burns eternally
but no shadows does it cast
flame’s reach high into the ancient sky
In search of visions of times past
the fiddle plays on and the images dance
Refreshed by the cobblers last
who are these ghosts? why do they dance?
one answer stands above all
they are the sons of Scotland it’s said
who died in defense of her soil
they stand on guard, if needed
to once again defend her shore
they dance and wait and listen
for the bagpipes mournful call to war
©Copyright 2009 Charlie Gragg
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