The Owl Service - Pram

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