On Returning to Gullworthy
There is an old stone bridge,
somewhere
way over yonder, that still
crosses our Tamar ..
Some way before she reaches
weirhead and where
the salmon, still leap in threes ..
There is also a hovel,
well hidden behind brambles
and bracken,
where old Betsy Drury once
lived and cast spells ..
I note there is too, a derelict
cowshed still
barely standing and where
more than once,
we played doctors and nurses,
in old Dodges field ..
Oh’ my word folks, it feels I’ve
been away for years ..
Yet in spite of all that, I think
I might just have
caught sight of her recently ..
Still wearing a smile,
an Afghan, her beads and her flares ..