It was a last request, one of many,
To look for my father’s grave.
Here, he laid, in Wales, not a native country,
But one which welcomed him when others would not.
“A hard life” was always the message,
When others talked of him,
Not of his loving nature, but of loneliness, poverty and sadness.
Now separation was to be over, one last time.
As I found my father’s grave, and peace at last.