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