Dead Breezes
A simple act of rememberance in the churchyard in Somerby,
A sunny pleasant day when the breeze is kind,
The living are far harder to connect with than the dead,
I have spoken with both today, both of me and mine,
A simple act of rememberance
A wave of long ago love under the sun
A librarian who nurtured me
And the girl who thirty one years ago
Became eleven for good.
Let me tell these dead of mine
What I cannot say to the living
Let me remember these dead I claim
And speak sadness into the kind breeze beneath the sun.
A sunny pleasant day when the breeze is kind,
The living are far harder to connect with than the dead,
I have spoken with both today, both of me and mine,
A simple act of rememberance
A wave of long ago love under the sun
A librarian who nurtured me
And the girl who thirty one years ago
Became eleven for good.
Let me tell these dead of mine
What I cannot say to the living
Let me remember these dead I claim
And speak sadness into the kind breeze beneath the sun.