Sat 5 Jun, 2010 04:51 pm
Of lollipop-stick longboats
And rollings in grass
Of hunting down conkers
And first day in class
Of pictures in condensate
Captured on glass
And, of wiping the sand from my bum
Reminders of yesteryear
Brought back to my thoughts
By a place I still go
My infantile playground
Where time seems to slow
And such chapters of childhood
My firstling adventures, within you, unfurled
First summers, first winters, first springs
You made me perceive a miraculous world
Full of intimate, infinite, things
No longer the dusk bell determines your close
And so hastens my exit's commence
From the heart of your spirit
Where everything grows
Unto absolute, relative, sense
Show me of somewhere
So perfectly still
Interacting with Nature's applause
And I'll show you Cwmdonkin
The park on the hill
In exactly the way
That it was
I grew up 100 yards or so from Dylan Thomas's childhood home, played in the same park, same stream, climbed the same trees, drank from the same fountain (hunchback) (still there too) etc. Never heard of the guy till my teens, I'd written a thousand verses by then.
I often wonder if the park - I go to still - is magical...
I like this one - It's sentimental to the hilt.
Have a great everything, everyone.
A very nostalgic poem, bravo. I love Wales. The scenery is just so charming.