by Cindy Williams
There are places of which I cannot speak
From sunny beaches to mountain peak
Names of which I cannot tell
All their beauty casts a spell.
Megaliths in the coutryside
Dwarfing me as I pass by
Ruined castles with forgotten stories
Once handsome strongholds standing in glory.
Cobblestone streets and alleyways
Little towns all having a marketplace.
Cities with cathedrals towering high
Spires nearly touching the sky.
Barges lazily floating toward locks
Ships in harbours waiting to dock.
In my memories are many tales
Of the beauty of both England and Wales.
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