sweetest weight in all the world,
heavy limb and heavy milk and minutes linger on.
And we were late
we walked home gone after eight,
we pulled soft and close fit cotton over weary heads.
Fell asleep in nook of arm as ted fell out of bed.
Whilst I recall,
cotton cloth forgotten song,
time that wouldn't ever end in growing up and on.
Satin quilted double throw and narrow corridor.
And who could know,
speed at which those moments go,
years that gain and fleet and fade and limbs to curve and grow.
Somewhere 7 blonde bob hair,
cord and patent carpet stair,
high as sky and knee to climb and I recall that face.
Late at night and walking home,
country lane and quiet road,
March and dark and race you back and air as cold as snow.
Late to bed head full of then, head full of hours gone.