I Walk In Wales, It’s Not My Land

I Walk In Wales, It’s Not My Land

I walk in Wales,
it’s not my land,
yet something here
will hold my hand.

The mountains watch,
the valleys sigh,
while ancient clouds
go drifting by.

The rivers speak
in words unknown,
but still they sound
like coming home.

The old stone walls
remember feet,
of those who walked
each winding street.

I hear the songs
the miners sang,
beneath the hills
their hammers rang.

The castles stand
with broken pride,
their ghosts still walk
the rooms inside.

I do not own
one blade of green,
or understand
all I have seen.

But Wales has placed
inside my heart,
a little flame
that won’t depart.

I came a stranger,
passing through,
beneath a sky
of misty blue.

I walk in Wales,
it’s not my land,
but still it knows
just who I am.