A distant cockerel can tickle my mind
or sounds of seagulls will Cornwall find.
Draw me back to sand and summer heat,
beaches where streams and the sea meet.
Smells and sounds never to be mistaken;
of dogs, pasties, bugs, eggs and bacon.
Mackinson, Whisky, Rum and Shrub;
they call me back to a familar hubbub.
St Columb, Mawgan and Trencreek,
people, faces, places my thoughts seek.
Visiting in any season for any reason;
The Travellers Rest and The Falcon.
The place is my spiritual catchment,
always that emotional attachment.
Thoughts meander to summer days,
the close caress of the evening phase.
Walking down those familiar streets
cliff top paths and worn country seats.
An affinity never to be bought or sold
Cornwall in the blood never runs cold.