A Smuggler To The Last.

A poem a day for a month, it's a nice thought.

Youthful Traveller.

Now,

firm in winter's bosom clasped

gazing back along a path

a path I never can retrace

wondering,  when summer's blaze

cooled to autumn's seductive charm,

when autumn ran to winter's chill?

I saw no signpost mark the borders

no checkpoint with the list

bidding me declare.

So the sea of life I duly sailed

a smuggler to the last,

contraband I carry in my heart,

the joy of spring

mid winter's icy blast.

Visit ann arky's home at www.radicalglasgow.me.uk