To England

Look for me one day hurrying by train
Grown restless for your ways
Will you know this foreign face
Or process me as guest?

Will you again regale my eyes
With a sound repast of June sun?
Long daisy-chained days
Of powder sky on tousled grass

Will I catch that distant bleating
And bells in misted stone?
Of that same fabric I am hewn
By the workings of your ancient mind

To weigh your worth in lines
To pay the balance on a birth
Would I try?
You are your own majesty

Sumangali Morhall
January 2005