I strove for words I could not find,
illuminate a seething mind,
but all I wrote was all in vain,
and then I read giftie Maclean.
My thoughts and fears, the tears I'd shed
in voice unknown - already said.
The lonely place but sea and hill,
life's simple truths, love stranger still.
Maclean: the poet I'll never be.
His words yet resonate in me.
You've seen and been, without due fame,
An ceann thall, MacGill-Eain.
The Old Town
1 day ago