As I stood there, silenced by the craftsmanship,
the old natural archway crossing over my head,
I was reminded of a time of learning,
years of past lives engrained in each handmade brick stone.
A time when many thoughts were heard echoing in the cloisters,
as songs of words rarely spoken today were sung daily,
prayers and psalms brought to the sharing of all,
while dinner was home grown and picked from the gardens nearby.
Behind me, stood the magnificent sight of the old viaduct,
crossed by thundering steam engines in days gone by,
swirling puffs of white smoke above the Luce as it flowed,
gently, serenely, to the Luce Bay and into the Irish sea beyond.
The sound of larks above me, caught the ears of the roe deer,
softly munching the grasses in the fields where Monks strolled peacefully,
and found paths to the River Luce to fish for salmon and trout,
feeding for kings and Queens that visited centuries before.
How a place can hold so much beauty, is surely a sign of blessed living,
living I have been graced by with not only seeing these sights,
but being reminded of them daily, and loving every moment,
ah, the sweet memories of Glenluce Abbey and the Wigtownshire shores.
Adding your comment:
such a soothing read over coffee this morning love and so kind of you to write this dedication for her...im sure she truly loves it
