It is November
the 4th to be precise
and the morning mists trailing above the estuary.
Llanstefan to my right
gulls wheeling and waders rootling about
in the flattening mud
as the train clanks and creaks along the way.
The ruins of a castle, ghost silhouetted and sharpened by
the profile of black rocks
caressed by grey blue waves.
There is sunlight on the headland
and sunshine in my heart
and the train whistles in sympathy with my exuberant mood.
I sit and smile at
A man with blue stars tattooed
upon his hands.
Knowing that, even now,
your star is flung
high and bright in the firmament;
Caravans rest, snail like upon the landscape
piebald ponies in a waterlogged field,
spiked with gorse and yellowing leaves
the rivers fat, full flowing
the world a better place for the knowing that
you have arrived, safe and secure
Molly maid, niece of mine
A diamond brightly shining
Nothing tawdry for you and,
please that it might prove to be
A life less ordinary for you.