Love In Scotland

Like tartan striped, blues and greens.
Like Scotland nights, full of dreams.
The weak calls of the bonnie lass.
Through her eyes, like broken glass.
Like the thistle, beautiful but dangerous.
Like the highlands, she walks the risk.
A hollow cry, of the empty creeks.
In ones hope we will find what we seek.
Like two dove birds, souring high.
Like a kite, in the sky.
Hoping one day we can greet.
Hoping one day they shall meet.