Frances 30th November 2024

In memory of my mum. The sighing of the wind shall be my breath. The salt air and the sweet whins my scent. See me in the red sunset glow, and in the purple heather on the braes. Let your laughter echo from the cliffs, and hear my voice. In the dark moments , feel my presence all around you. When your days grow short and the long night beckons, I will be waiting for you by the shore