A pram awaits in a cold, boggy meadow,

How it reached this dell alone, nobody knows,

Squirrels jump on its hood, a baby to find,

Robins search the frozen ground for a sock left behind.

Muddy footsteps a red fox spots in the straggled grass,

Leading to a mossy gate which opens up a stony path

Towards the foaming sea shore at stormy Aberbach

Where frozen moonlight forges waves from liquid glass.

The Welsh wind swiftly searches bare branches of lost trees,

Forgotten lonnings where hardy men afeared wicked fairies,

It leaps and rolls to meet a sleeping babe tucked tight

In a mother and father’s embrace, who had left the pram behind.