The Elms

I’ll walk up over the hills to you,
And meet you under the elms.
There by the rough barked trunk we’ll lean,
There where the cows have rubbed;
And we’ll talk and laugh,
And we’ll love my one,
Out in the open air.

Walk down over the hills to me,
And I’ll wait for you there in the dell.
And no one shall know what we’ve seen my love,
Save the old elms where we’ve been my love,
There in the cow dunged green.

All that we left behind is lost,
Touching upon the hills.
Meeting for happiness,
Nothing but happiness,
Just when the voices call.
Up from the valley,
Down from the hilltop,
Feeling each others pull.

Asking no name and giving no name,
But parting and coming afresh again.
Back to the spot when our hearts are closed,
To open them out anew.
Back to the elm where the cow dung’s brown,
Just for the loving of you.

Tony Crisp

Copyright ©2001 Tony Crisp