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You took a precious thing
And used it recklessly
And I was that precious thing.

Every Night

I reach out/stretch out my
fingers/soul to you.

Searching around in the dark/silence
seeking you in the old
places, where you no longer live.

I an tired now, from searching,
worn out/disillusioned.

Find me, I cannot find you.

No. 8.5

That old, old pain of love
never returned
touches me new
with its gentle fingers
No stab, just a
slow ache steals
over me, just
an old, familiar
malady.

No. 9

I caught a glimpse of heaven
today, on Brougham Street
Sun rimmed clouds, shafts of light

It stilled old grief, like a
finger on lips.

No.8

I sing a true song
And it takes my spirit up
Away into the
Deep green mountains
There to wander, naked and free
between the dark trees
playing in sweet trickling creeks
Where sunshine streams
through in shafts of light
and the dust mites
dance in awe of all created things
And You, the uncreated.

Through the Passes

Farewell then, to the coast
As we turn inland
Into the mysterious Island
Shrouded in rain
Dark hills hidden in a stormy haze
And a green maze of mountains
Trails wrapping round them
Water falling down them
Glittering silver in the
Dim light at noon

No. 7

There are moments in the day
When I think of you
And the world lights up at the thought