Penshaw Monument

At the top of our village stands Penshaw Hill,
there sits a monument stoic & still.
Eighteen pillars of mortar & stone,
tough as iron & hard of bone.

Used a a view point to enjoy the land,
touched & stroked by everyone's hand.
Lit up at night she steals the show,
haunting in mist with a golden halo.

People search her out when coming home,
whether travelling local or flying from Rome.
Loved & admired respected from afar,
by cyclists & walkers & the passing car.

We are all proud to live under her gaze,
with fields of poppies & watch cattle graze.
The kissing gate creaks & stiles are stepped,
ashes have been scattered & people wept.

But let's enjoy our moment & ponder,
admire her beauty & let your mind wander.
By Paul Ashman