A sort of poem

As I haven’t been picking up the camera I’ve been messing about writing. On one of my walks I was inspired to write this – it’s a sort of poem (I think!)

A cottage with a red tin roof, stone walls whispering silent tales to anyone who cares to listen.

Dandelion fairies dance in the air illuminated by the sunshine.

May flower confetti falls at my feet as I walk my troubles away.

My shadow appears, not sinister anymore, a guardian angel in disguise,

Home to the house on the hill where I belong.