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HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

Home is where the heart is

Not always the place on which we stand,

For who can explain this yearning deep within,

For that far and distant land;

On whose soil the feet may not have trod,

Whose mountains, valleys and hills not climb,

But within the confines of this aching heart

A surreal picture they now find.

They see the dancing of the daffodils.

They hear the singing of the choir.

The green, green grass is beckoning

From that far and distant shore.

What is this thing called –

‘HIRAETH’

No man has ever, ever known

But the call of

WALES

To this yearning soul,

Is the call to their heart

from this place called

HOME

© Christine Field-Davies

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