Celtic Maid

near paths we had trod,

chips of Cornish granite

made feet feel barely shod.

In the misty distance

lay Atlantic coast,

below us were tin mines

Now monuments at most.

We looked as if forever,

nothing seemed amiss,

on this balmy evening

we snatched a fleeting kiss.

I have never seen her

since we left that hill,

Celtic maid entrances me

Her voice haunts me still.

Graham Lawes, Sholing, Southampton

Daily Echo writer-in-residence Polly Clark, pictured, writes: "A romantic verse by this poet, with a song-like rhythm."

You can e-mail Polly on polly.clark@soton-echo.co.uk

Don't forget the Daily Echo short story and poetry competition! Details in Saturday's Creative Corner.