Ivy
Things are changing, not just the light The static is growing louder and Russia is growing closer Here, down south, I sit and admire the sun that stains skin I wonder about the size of spears and I wonder when I will travel Where are the ships that will take me? Should I follow the path to the harbour to wait Or will someone come knocking when the time comes? My door it is covered by fast growing ivy My shoes are still brand new I know the birds that come to my garden And I spy on the neighbours as they do the same Things are changing, yes The horse paddocks are close, yet I no longer go there I wonder what sort of men go there now What sort of men would take me if I was eighteen once more What would we do... you can see so many stars at the horse paddocks Before these days arrived I would have analysed my thoughts I would have taken my favourite dreams and bred them with my fantasies I would rubbed in some oil paint, some spit and some family history And written ...