|
The children are walking back from the beach |
|
Sun on the sidewalk is burning their feet |
|
Washing the salt off under the shower |
|
And just wasting away, wasting away |
|
The hours and hours and hours |
|
Come on, climb over your father's back fence |
|
For the very last time we'll take the shortcut |
|
Across his lawn |
|
Then lie together on the estuary bed |
|
Perfectly still, perfectly warm |
|
Sleep no more |
|
Sleep is dead |
|
Sleep no more on the estuary bed |
|
Ache no more |
|
Old skin is shed |
|
Sleep no more on the estuary bed |
|
I see you still |
|
I know not rest |
|
Silt returns along the passage of flesh |
|
I hear your voice |
|
I taste the salt |
|
I bear the stain, it won't wash off |
|
I hold you not |
|
But I see you still |
|
What use eyesight if it should melt? |
|
What use memory covered in estuary silt? |
|
I know your shape |
|
Our limbs entwined |
|
I know your name, remember mine |
|
Sleep no more |
|
Sleep is dead |
|
Sleep no more on the estuary bed |
|
Ache no more |
|
Old skin is shed |
|
Sleep no more on the estuary bed |
