.

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?