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The warmth of the sun hugs me
Makes it feel like home,
Looking over the rolling green hills
Where the bagpipers roam.

They play their haunting music
As the waves crash down below,
I can hear it travelling with the wind
He plays with such sorrow.

His kilt blows with the wind
As the afternoon sun, fades away,
The dark clouds linger in the sky
Remembering a true love, that went astray.

Copyright Cynthia Jones
Mar.18/2006