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...