Comments about Jayne Davies
Echoes Of Life
The train left the station, picking up pace,
As I stood on the hill, with the Sun on my face,
A familiar sight, that I saw every day,
In the place I grew up, just across the way.
Brought up in a house, built from old Welsh stone,
With no fancy car, or telephone.
I still hear the echoes, to this very day,
From a home filled with sunshine, come what may.
At the top of our garden, there stood an old swing,