My Laugharne Love….
“Ydych chi’n eisiau yn arall, Cariad?”
“We do not ‘ave such truck with Nationalists here,
The English do not like it!”
Laughing, weEnglish, here in Brown’s Hotel,
Wallpaper stained and faded - long unchanged -
Giggle through our warm, Welsh bitter beer.
Toast the Man, resplendent in old photograph,
As, playing cards, he too laughs with old regulars.
Then, like hungry sparrows, flock We to the Shed.
Young Lion crouches, mane a sail aflame,
Romp, smiling Beauty at his side
He rolls a slimline Jazz - caring Llareggub!
Then to the glass pained door
With smoke paned eyes squeezed tight on Faith….
Dark laden, dusty as Caitlin left it thus,
On desk, a bottle now undrained,
Typewriter silent as the grave,
Pencils bask with cigarettes now cold
And paper balls on desk and floor;
Left alone one final time
Just as the day it was He died
And Music left the Bay….
Over Sir John’s Hill clouds are scudding;
We small birds of the Bay seek shelter from their tears….
Dilly, dilly! Come we to die beneath this Hawk’s shadow?
We four, sequestered within wooden pillars,
Come to live!
The Jazz is mine, I offer it to Sea and Sky,
Reach in my jacket, twist the metal cap,
Savour the music of the moment….
“Ydych chi’n eisiau yn arall, Cariad?”
I whisper to the silent tide beneath.
The Hawk on Fire hangs still,
The Famous Grouse takes flight,
An offering to you,
My Laugharne Love….
© Lisa Gabriel, 9th July 2005
