Poetry The Welsh One

We gazed from Cardiff’s seafront
as the diamond radiance
of a million stars
glittered in summer’s midnight.

I spoke of my soul’s breech
by the songs of Bassey,
Jenkins
and the Jones’ boy,
of my tears’ cascade
at the majesty of Snowdon,
the Mumbles
and the hills of Abergavenny.

We stood in Celtic brotherhood,
transfixed by moonlight’s
shimmering dance
with the living ocean.

I told of my senses’ thrill
at the rampage of JPR,
Jackson
and old Giggsy,
of my lifeblood’s surge
at the splendour of the valleys,
the mountains
and the sands of Aberystwyth.

I asked,
“Is that the Bristol Channel
or the Irish Sea?”

He snapped,
“Are you some sort
of a bloody Englishman?”