Homeland

There is an endless part of me that yearns
For rolling hills and tempest-ridden skies.
The wild black nights and liquid velvet burns
The wily glint inside a roe buck's eyes.
While moving through hills cloaked with night, I saw
A pair of stags: the darkness made them bold,
And after that, their harems by the score.
I long for rolling Scottish hills of old!
I may have not been bred among the free,
But I belong there, I cannot deny.
I long for Scotland, and it longs for me.

Tis years from now that I can return home
To the storm-riddled skies where eagles roam.