Come along
out of the sands
running out into autumn,
weaving in
and weaving out
your hands
running to here
altho the branches
and the bushes
are coming cold
and harsh
now the summers gone
sand still runs
down
on to us, over us.
out of the sands
running out into autumn,
weaving in
and weaving out
your hands
running to here
altho the branches
and the bushes
are coming cold
and harsh
now the summers gone
sand still runs
down
on to us, over us.
I remember summer
lasting 'till forever,
I remember
seeing leaves run the breeze,
I remember
loving lights of july
in a summer
running thru
an avenue of trees.
A sky of swallows
chasing round
shooting higher and higher
on the solitary sands
that run dry
once again...
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