It is always so hard

To leave

The little haven between the mountains

And the Georgian bay.

It keeps a part of me here,

-More than memory.

It is where we lay in the darkness

And loved

While it thundered outside of

Your family’s cabin

So long ago.

Then years passed

And our daughter took her first steps

Not far from the path of

White birch trees

Where we walked as our children grew.

She danced here

One spring.

The same day our son

Found himself walking in the

Mountains he loved.

First the caves drew him in

Then one day in May

While his sister waited

To dance,

In the wings,

He climbed to the edge

Of a blue misted mountain

-taking a picture of the world below.

The place

Where we vacationed with our dog,

Walked underneath white birch trees

And felt the curve of the long




our feet.


It is where my soul always stays

Long after we have returned home.

-J. Hamilton


One thought on “haven

  1. Pingback: haven | Le cose piu belle (the most beautiful things)

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