Down on Cyprus Avenue. With a childlike vision leaping into view. Clicking, clacking of the high heeled shoe. Ford and Fitzroy, Madame George. Marching with the soldier boy behind. He's much olde
The wine beneath the bed. The things we've done and said. And all the memories. That come glancing back to me,. In my loneliness. Standing in the breach. Beyond that stretch but our love reach.
In the dark lights, We come out and play. We are its children, And we're here to stay. Running through the streets, Hungry for strays. No invitation, To take me away I'm not cruel, But that's still