Best Poem of R. C. Welford

Childhood
In the house where I grew, I listened,
I loved. no wrong could come about me,
And no wrong could be done, by those loved.
They would ask, and I would do, so happily.

Those I love, like angels, their halos framing smiles,
And peaceful words. colour etched upon the walls;
Crayons lie waiting for the . . .
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To Dream
What is a man to do if his dreams are at war?
If that which he loves, will kill that which he adores?
He cannot choose, for fear of losing the lot,
So he must wait, and break his heart for the shot,
To keep one or other, and to save not his head,
But the space behind his chest. to burn his bed,
Or his . . .
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