Unsure, how safe is the land below,

We are just asked to wander and go.

The coldness of the land makes us slow

Despite the kindness its people show

And the shelter care they give us though

When would we go back, I wanna know

To my own… or that’s what I thought so,

Well that ceased to exist long ago.

Poetry Style – Cycydedd Naw Ban

Originally published in Penmancy