Heavy pang for a twilight year
Where once my hand was taken, and i followed
Leaving behind a trail of naiveté
The trail i pick up now, with the voices of my past
Strength of security, what a child feels in their father’s arms
Small with big eyes, and even bigger dreams
All the places i remember, buildings of red brick and tile…
High ceilings for a wee one, the organ player knows…
The reverberation of this tune like an eternal rose…