Sunday 30 January 2011

726 - In philanderer's fields

On foreign land you took my hand and then
We kissed for hours among the flowers of snow
I flew back home but knew, the facts were plain
I’d miss your land, your hand, but had to go

On foreign sand your dark hair hung down low
Adorned with flower, I scorned your powerful bloom
We sailed, homebound, no fire down below
I missed my chance of romancing your womb

On foreign train your sandy hair and soon
You’re standing there, careful to show the men
Here is your town, step down, forever go

I softly sigh as I send out this tune
Still you adorn a corner of Britain
Within my mind that’s foreign through and through

Sat 30 Aug 2008

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