Just back from a wonderful trip,
From a place of towering pines and the air with a nip,
Of floating mist and rustling leaves,
Of knitting needles and warm sleeves,

It was not called Pristine Peaks for no reason,
It was truly untouched, unsoiled, perfect for every season,

And as I sat soaking in the view,
I felt at peace at another of my missions come through,

It had been my mother’s wish for long,
To explore the lanes where dad in his school days did throng,
So to see the delight on her aging face,
Sure made me beam with joy that nothing could replace