Old Ghosts
Hair stands high on the cat's back likea ridge of threatening hills.
Sheepdogs howl, make tracks and growl ---
their tails hanging low.
And young children falter in their games
at the altar of life's hide-and-seek
between tall pillars, where Sunday-night killers
in grey raincoats peek.
Misty colours unfold a backcloth cold ---
fine tapestry of silk
I draw around me like a cloak
and soundless glide a-drifting
on eddies whirled in beech leaves furled ---
brown and gold they fly
in the warm mesh of sunlight
sifting now from a cloudless sky.
I'll be coming again like an old dog in pain
Blown through the eye of the hurricane
Down to the stones where old ghosts play.
Losowe piosenki:
You and I
La Nica Bella
You Never Listen To Me
I Won't Gamble With Your Love
OUT-A-TOUCH
IF YOU THINK YOU KNOW HOW TO LOVE ME