* * * * * * A
* * a * * * B
* * * * * * C
* * c * * * B
It is called an awdl in its long format, or an awdl gywydd in its shorter form. Only my distant Welsh ancestors could dream up a longer name for the shorter format!
After the terror, then the fear, then the reluctance, turned to willingness (of a sort), I let the idea simmer overnight, and played around with it today. The format doesn't call for that last lone line I threw in, but I preferred it at the end rather than as a title (I can't always think of titles).
old age sneaks in when we sleep
now we weep, our youth is gone.
what became of that young girl?
social whirl, then up at dawn:
off to work, then overtime.
love sublime, and sweet romance
pushed exhausted pain aside—
she could ride, and laugh and dance.
when did the laughter die?