Pram The Owl Service
the road is long and made of sand and grit
the trees loom up against the sky
the turnip moon makes a song of the lake
and all I know is heartache
the night is a tender velvet cloak
lined in mist, edged in starlight
the waters rise and threaten to drown the shore
a boat to cross the water what I long for
animals, darkness and trees
between me and where i live
