THE HOMECOMING

One from long ago. Don’t kmow when my muse may reappear.

“I’m sober,” he said, “and I love you.

Come home.”

And the pines on the mountain

danced with branches outspread

in a green ecstasy,

the birds sang Ode To Joy

and rebellious hope

flooded the sky and fields.

The forest flared

with green flames,

harps sang in every stream

and waterfalls thundered applause.

Homeward I sped

through Betws and Blaenau,

through Rhaedr reeling along

in a rusty old van

with wings on its wheels.

Over the Severn,

a fairytale drawbridge

hung from the heavens

on silver blue chains.

The motorway gleamed

 in the moonlight and rain

and the city lights

seemed like spun gold

as I sped to my home,

just a house in a terrace

but now promised land;

the doors opened wide

and there he stood waiting –

                           bottle in hand.