MY VALLEY

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I stand on a hill and gaze at my valley

Lying and waiting just like a great beast

Dark brown and tawny basking in sunlight

Like a great lion replete from his feast.

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Sometimes its misty and cloudy and damp

The valley sits sullen like a child who is sad

The coal tips are looming blackened and  menacing

Looking for children that other tips had.

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Earth mixed with men who crawled in its bowels

Rivers of tears from women alone

The valley sits silent, watching and waiting

Its peaceful exterior can never atone.

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There are days when the valley sits chuckling

Like a fat and benevolent hen

Spinning its wheels at the pit head

Promising work to the men.

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Days when its shrouded and misty

Beheading the mountains and trees

Days when I look at its glory

And find myself down on my knees.

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Copyright Jan Price.