Thinking back to my early working life!
Remembering life through a frosted lens.
Quite often I’d steer my pencils, and pens,
To write poems of love in the mist-filled dale,
As a draughtsman at work in Ebbw Vale.
For there the Open Hearth belched its song,
With fumes and dust all summer long.
My thoughts, not as they should have been there,
Would waywardly drift to more pleasing air.
For then did I, forget such toil,
And dream of a time where rich garden soil,
Would nurture a flower in early May,
And life also, for me, would bloom that day.
Richard Peej
Thank you Kate -so kind of you to say so 
Richard
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!
