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Hereith a longing

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Hereith a longing

Euston Euston station
I never pass Euston station at times without feeling homesick
hereith we call it - hereith a longing
watching the trains pull out of the station into its dark tunnels 
imagining a journey out of London through Kentish town and the suburbs
but in my mind I am far beyond them
past the marches and border country 
far away to my childhood 
back to mountains castles and streams 
to the valleys of my home 
back to my youth 
five hours and forty years away 

I remember the look of Wales 
the things that settle in my mind like photographs in a family album
Wales as I like to remember it the Wales I want everyone to see 
in those days it seemed to be always summer 
the sands or the shining sea in the great bay
things of childhood the sound of breakers 
the feel of sand between my toes
plunging into the distance of the past
So I go back to Wales as often as I can
I take the train from Euston and I go home
back to my youth 
five hours and forty years away 

Copyright © Nigel Fox

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  1. Date: 9/27/2012 6:36:00 AM
    They say you can never go back home again. Your poem describes it well. Five hours and forty years away. Reminding us we just can't stay. But memories that never go away make us want to go back and play. Hereith a longing. Awsome write Nigel.