then again

then again

take me down to laugharne again,

the quiet ways of the sleepy town 

again, and we’ll pretend 

a drink in brown’s and then

write a line through the writing shed,

window cobwebbed, and on again, 

to tea at the boathouse on the mud,

and how he’d bloody laugh at them,

a fag-coughing, uproarious, laugh and then 

he would snare them in a poem. 

I want to see that laugharne again,

heron stranded on a broken-boated tide.

oh, do take me back to laugharne again,

to the white-walled-gated lanes again,

it brings back the undermilk words to me, 

for he might be around every corner see,

and there he is again! 

but then again, then again ...