A wedding in a blizzard in Wales 1946.



Knowing the apple blossom,
would come and then,
to keen and men.

His first love gave up,
after he was late,
putting out incendiaries.

My mother was redundant from making bombs,
a Mail sent her to Birmingham,
on a bus from the Cymau.

The snow swirled with gentle ferocity,
for the confetti was made of rainbow coloured pay books,
lovingly torn and placed in wickers,
released from the ration.

Everyone marvelled at the tin of salmon,
the vicar took a nip of the main brace,
to keep out the cold.

Smiled for spring,
as the choir did sing
and the snow patterned unto lace.

~