Back from the dragon’s lair, the Welsh wetland,
But against all odds and weather forecast,
The sun shone all day, as we walked the sand
And ate ice cream outside. We had a blast.
Returned to The Mumbles where I went last
Summer, the waves crashing picturesquely
Against the rocks, the white lighthouse steadfast.
Saw a pic of it (1893)
In Waterstone’s bookstore. It seemed to me
As though little had changed. Kids hand in hand
In caps and smocks, women in frocks, all cast
In time, frozen like us. Photography
Preserves the dead, just like our childhood land
That is no more. Lives disappear so fast.
Sun 30 Mar 2008
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