Between Colwyn and Rhos.
Locked in the bay between Colwyn and Rhos
Roam the ghosts of my youth bound to an oath.
Dormant and neutral they wait my return
To spoon me the solace I fervently yearn.
Caressing my soul, they whisper their tales
And paint in the void of fading details,
‘Till eyes blurred nostalgic, I stroll through my past
Denying the truth that wants out at last.
That life in its charge to move ever on
Gives no thought to lives once lived and now gone.
That choices and courses in innocence made
Can shatter foundations so carefully laid.
And pine as I might for all that’s now lost
I know my dreams of return are star-crossed.
So slaking my need from the height of Penmaen
I gaze at the vale I ache to be mine.
The beach and promenade foaming and blue,
Cleaved by a white pier that runs the waves through.
Then follow the hills that sit like a crown,
Patterned in fields sloping off into town.
And last to Tan y lan, so wild in my youth,
Yet now lies before me ordered and couth.
Gathering strength from this straightforward act,
I greet an awareness of one simple fact;
No matter how far from home I may stray,
I was, am, will be just a boy from the Bay.