So, as dad slept, I wrote this poem for him. If you would bear with me a few more minutes, I would like to share it with you. And she is Abegweit, l'ile Saint-Jean, Prince Edward Island. To tread upon her red soil brings peace to this weary soul. Magical forest of maple, sap running, sweet provider.
Pristine shoals mirror the heavens, country church beckons.
Gentle place, loving home. You steal me away each summer and few understand. I want to walk on the Howlan Road as I did when I was a child. Lady slippers and lupins will bid me welcome waving from the fields. Old School chums, all young again.