The mists that veil your towering mountains, envelope my mind;
a mother’s embrace.
The colours that paint on your canvas of valleys, nourish my spirit;
prisms of light.
The winds that carry your tales and melodies, caress my heart;
The rivers that write of your boundless strengths, fortify my will;
a shield of hope.
I hear your call, your beckoning voice, each day when I am afar;
I feel your pull, your ethereal touch, beseeching for my return;
Within me you shall always remain as a beacon of love, a compass;
To you, I belong, like a leaf from your branches, a child of the Clyde;
Oh land of the brave… I am a warrior… your thistle.
Image and Poem © Naziyah Mahmood, 2014