Far-Sick

Homesick for a place far away.

Slate clouds scudding

Across a steely sky

There is a peace here

Troubles lost to the wind

Oh but my heart lies

Softly on these moors

Nestled deep in this woodland

Buffeted on the Atlantic swell

Give me the rain

The chill

The isolation

Over the city's bustle

The place where the stars shine brighter

Than streetlights ever could

The Hebrides holds a magic

Awakens a longing in me