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Valley road 1968
The mist flows down from the mountains,
meeting here in our meeting place;
I envy the mingling tendrils
the essence of their embrace.
The night walks up to the mountains,
taking silence to a silent place;
We talk in the mist and the silence
and time slows the pulse of its pace.
We are here in the fold of the mountains,
the worlds fall away without trace;
As the last peak sparks into darkness
the stars print an end to the race.
April 1968
Betwys y Coed
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