Music: A Ei Di'r 'Deryn Du.
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|Eighteen is a windswept borderline:
In a moment, gates forever closed.
Gulf of dreams behind the vanished child,
Halfway round the corner of her smile.
The change flaps in the breeze, but in a while
Each motion turns to dance, each gesture wild
Eventually is placed, positioned, posed:
No leaping for sheer joy but by design.