I sit here in the fading light,
Alone.
I'm still, although my weakened wasted frame
Occasionally dances with the cold.
I'm old now, and live with just my thoughts,
Of you.
Where are you now?
Does your body feed and nourish
Many trees and flowers?
Do noisy bees disturb your rest?
I'm old now, and live with just my thoughts,
Of you.
I remember chubby fingers, grasping thumbs,
To help you first perambulate,
With chuckling glee that set you free
To mingle with your destiny.
I'm old now, and live with just my thoughts,
Of you.
Did they train you well
My son,
Or just give you a gun
And tell you God was on your side?
I'm old now, and live with just my thoughts,
Of you.
That hollow day on which they came to say
How bravely you had died,
I fed them tea and choked on sympathy,
I cried.
I'm old now, and live with just my thoughts,
Of you.
Did your bowels flood at sight of blood?
Which soon you recognized, as yours?
Will history reward your sacrifice?
No! It will soon forget, and seek new fools!!
I'm old now, I wish I could remember you clearly.............
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn