May contain Rants

Croeso, to my home

croesoDriving from England towards Cymru

we leave our little suburb

and rows of shoe boxes for homes all tightly packed,

passed  the  polluted spew pouring from the factory chimneys and graffiti walls

It’s as if we leave the darkness behind

and follow our journey into the sun

an hour goes and already my heart races with joy

for I am back home where my ancestors were born,

where they grew

The air changes , all you can breathe and we do

we the breathe in  green valleys and hills ; the land ,

cultivated waiting to be sown

the landscape changes so fast before our eyes

this time of year there are  remnant’s of winter still lying  on the ground

like white lines of coke ready to snort

but there are signs of spring everywhere to be seen

yellow daffodils line up and bow as if to greet you home

lambs with their mothers breaking  the blanket of green,

and then further along our journey along the coast

turrets in the sides of hills we are there

the sea blue green ,and golden sands

embedded with footprints of beach walkers who have gone before

then the harbour with boats tied in line

and of course there’s our Angel Bay and its shore,

she’s been waiting for our return

This is Wales, land of my heritage ,

this is the home  of my father ,

and this is the land of my grandmother

and this will always be home to me.

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland.
All rights reserved

One thought on “Croeso, to my home

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