How your face has fallen to the cruel days
Like the leaves on the ground
Like the moth in my bedroom
In circles flying round and round
The sun sets over the weary hills
And the yellow fields and dark hedgerows
And rows and rows of horizons piled up
One by one, one by one
I can take your anger,
and walk away the while
Still smiling, in measured flight
I can walk that weightless mile
My father brought bright laughter and
gave the mere inane and the mundane to the sunshine
Where we lived, all the time.
The lights are on, in every town of England.
How I love to arrive, how I long to depart
Such are the crenelations in my heart
The lights are on, the evening has come
I want to show you something.
There are lines of lights in the city streets
And time stops moving
It's simple enough to say 'I miss you' and mean it.
To those around who remind me of you
I can say 'you're like him' or 'he's like you'
It's only a light breeze, but it's enough,
Somewhere a bird is shaking out leaves and twigs from her nest
And bits of feathers, bits of fluff
Floating past the trees like blossom
Is there poetry in the parking lot?
In the grid like lines of Milton Keynes?
Behind the scenes the dead wind rustles and shakes water's sea-ward dreams
Is there poetry amid the reeking refuse and overflowing bins?