| I can almost see shimmering faery
|
| As I recline on moss
|
| But there isn’t enough primrose
|
| There are only wishes in
|
| A hidden forest
|
| I can almost see ghosts
|
| As I shiver on icy floorboards
|
| But Amelia is asleep in winter
|
| There are only prayers
|
| In a secret house
|
| I was lost by the wayside
|
| Amidst the groans of a tired time
|
| There is nothing for me here
|
| The tales of the flute by the fire
|
| A stroll through a sombre evening
|
| Smoke enticing from their pipes… pipes
|
| And the honourable visions
|
| Of a pulseless mind
|
| Death comes in an instant
|
| If you like
|
| But Amelia may be waking soon
|
| When I sleep, I can’t pull myself away
|
| Yet
|
| But I know there are mansions out there
|
| Maybe on Saturn or Mars or Mercury or Luna
|
| Maybe on Saturn or Mars or Mercury or Luna
|
| …Maybe this is a clue
|
| I’d never been washed ashore
|
| Or seen the droll night before
|
| My body vanished
|
| I hovered in the concourse
|
| Of the court of thousands
|
| Of yellow asphodel
|
| It hurts remembering the fragance of Heaven
|
| We lived in the rowans, avoiding mad water
|
| Spoiling our children with tea and mushrooms
|
| Early in the autumn as we slept by the oven
|
| Someone sent a shape who tore the house apart
|
| Our bond was shattered, I was drawn away
|
| I was caught praying in the shade
|
| Recently, I went back to my door
|
| And breathed…
|
| It was love filtered through yellow paraffin
|
| We pushed with all our might
|
| For you… |