Memories of a walk in the old lane
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I keep dreaming
of the whitewashed house
its dew washed gardens
and its bed of rose.
My memories of a walk in the old lane
and I see us painted all around
see the smiles and the tears
hoping, somehow you are here.
I keep dreaming
of the rain sodden road
back to the beginings,
my way back home.
My memories of the half formed sweet dreams
cobwebs ladden sweet sweet dreams
and I see your face
somehow fading in a haze
I keep dreaming
of a world now far away
I was there, you were near
and it all becomes too much to bear
My memories of a walk in the old lane
and I realise time has long since closed that door back to you
locked it up and there is no more
my dear way back home.
~fins~
