Island of Dreams

The trees were in their autumn blaze,

leaves catching the last of the day's sunrays.

Cold is the day that swept the sky,

warm is the breeze that passed us by.

The trail is not too long to take,

an hour, no more for us to make.

The time gone swiftly passing by,

the end of days goes with a sigh

An Island draped in swathing frost

an idyllic place with little cost

To all who visit, they shall see

where I learn the mystique to be

Ynys Mon, a place to go

Anglesey is a place that's so

inviting all who love the isle

letting them leave with beaming smile.

©Michael D. Powell