.hen tynllan.

demands are everyday

simple things can be priceless & while the words pound

grind

oh make us cry

while the world is turning there is a small hope to always return home

then

why did he mention the old house?

i thought he did not know

when he looked at me

i slept a darker paint

a place of nowhere

no marks no texture

clarity

from

days of research

at the old house

&

out in the land

feeling the way

through the history of this place

threatened

you ask for a fantasy      a challenge

this is a house full of ideas

statements

a house of dreams and nightmares

i thought he did not know

when he looked at me

he always had that small hope to return home

listed building

lurching sideways keeping my balance

i returned home