When I was a child
And school was boring
Some of us would take an unofficial day off.
We all had notes from our Mothers
Whose handwriting
Was remarkably like our own.
We would stand on the Black bridge
Waiting for the steam trains
To go underneath.
Bathed in steam
We could comb our hair
Like popstars
Without the cost of Brylcreem.
The trains carried black Gold
From the mines in the valleys
To the docks
In Barry.
At night I would dream
Of exotic destinations
Like Africa
America
And Iceland.
I could picture
The black, sweat seared faces
Of the miners,
Red and white eyed
Drinking for Wales.
Years later
When the Unions
And the Government
Had destroyed the coalfields
And the culture,
I discovered
That these exotic destinations
Were Birmingham
Manchester
And Liverpool,
And that coal
Was now fossil fuel
Used by fools
Maybe
I should have gone to school.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
