I step out into the big night.

The air is warm,

the wind soft.

I weigh up what is ahead of me.

How to live

on nothing?

How to make the last pound in your purse,

last ages?

Yet I do not feel poor.

Happiness is priceless.

As I walk down Tan Y Felin,

the shadows dance, dance . . .

The end of the road

is the future,

the junction, a decision.

I know every decision you ever make

leans on your soul,

growing lighter, as you get older.

But tonight,

as the shadows dance,

as I walk to the end of the road.

The junction.

I feel as rich as the darkness descending.

As hopeful as the sunlight

on a shy March dawn . . .



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