As the light fails this autumnal day,
The echoes of society grow strong.
Once this place would ring with laughter
As the juke box played its merry tunes,
But now this is gone.
Since the new-year took its toll,
All those Millennia ago.
This once great city,
Now but a village among the ruins.
As the Archaeologists return
To a tavern on the harbour,
I return to here.
To contemplate and remember
My forebears and their kin,
Alive and unknowing,
In this merry Welsh inn.
5:55 - 6:10pm waiting for a friend
to finish working in The Brooklands,
a pub in Swansea.
Edited slightly during typing 5/10/1999