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HOW GREEN IS MY VALLEY?

Just how green is my valley Below those dark satanic hills? How many familial bones Lay there molding to greyish dust? Do the words of my forefathers Echo on beyond my ancient head... So that future ears clearly hear What wisdom they actually said? I long to see the rain fall On those grey slag built mountains, Where trees are straggly specimens - Sometimes misted by the clouds So low that their moist kiss remains On my upward stretching hands. It's where the belly trembles And my heartache truly resounds. But how much better would it be Were this a sun drenched paradise, Where everything was plentiful; Where everyone was fulfilled And could afford their daily bread, Where cries of pain became instead Joyful smiles with ease instilled? © Allen Ansell 2025

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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