when you and I were young
we would press our white faces from the car
And the rain on the windows would run through the gathering dark


And the lampposts shone and dogs would run into the dying frame
where the park was glowing dimly through the silence of the lanes

And the radiators hum rose above the falling leaves
where so fragile and so young you had drifted into sleep


Ive been for a walk
& every face I see seems to be mine
night-time comes

the birds have flown
a fever glows in every line


I love this season
this weary night
the flint the dreams the silent pines

the eeriness
is in the feeling
that I have finished everything


And a child from the school was running back to her car
And her white face cried she was deaf and afraid of the dark


And the whispering house grew still as we stared into the night
in the garden and the lamps and the windows fading light

and though Christmas was the same, we had seen another year
turning softly through the flames