I didn’t see the oaks then, nor the ferns, moss
nor knew their names, harts tongue fern, Spanish moss
I had not climbed the Rwenzori’s then
But I remember the green, the wetness
The name Betws-y-Coed, the grey brick, slate.

You rented a house, you came into my room.
We found a Walter Grieve in the back of a shop
(how do I remember well this name?)

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