Owain Glyn

Inside my head
The wheels are turning.
Not madly, not furiously,
Like the wheel of chance,
Creating misery, or joy.

No, my wheels turn more slowly
Like a Ferris wheel,
The London eye,
Moving, then pausing
To let me feed off the vista.

I see the silver ribbon
Of the river.
Pleasure boats and warships,
Side by side
Resting, on the self-same tide.

With you
The pleasure is a fleeting thing.
White sails struck,
Now cannons roar
Preparing for impending war.

The wheel moves again,
I view the Palace of Westminster.
It's hallowed halls
Where laws are drawn,
And many lies are told.

I see your smile
And drink it in.
Believing it will slake my thirst
To leave me sated
For a while.

With you
The smile lasts only
Until you draw,
Another law
Without consultation.

The wheel moves again
This time,
I see the far horizon.
Should I, now turn away,
From you......today?
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