A Gift Of Roses

I count the hours: you count the days.

Together, we count the minutes in this passion play.

Walk dusty miles. and i ride that train

On a first class ticket, just to be with you again.



Picking up tired feet. back from a far horizon.

Cleaned up and brushed down. dressed to look the part.

Fresh from god's garden, i bring a gift of roses:

To stand in sweet spring water and press them to your heart.



Like the kipling cat, i walk alone -

Never inviting trouble, never casting the stone.

But this badge of honour is of tarnished tin.

Lightyour guiding beacon to bring this fisher in.


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