I sit at my desk

Surrounded by images,

Memories

Of bygone days

When sunshine's rays

Stabbed at the gloom.

Tendrils of tunes

Whisper through my brain

And settle like rain

On a soft summer's day.

With shaking hand

I scribble on card,

As a guard

To protect these treasures

Which I toss to the skies

In the hope that your eyes

Will rest upon them

And smile.

                                                     _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Owain Glyn