Driving 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.
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