Though I say we’re together not apart

No matter where we are, I’d best admit

Physically here’s more glorious...

The cat’s not on our bed today

Instead she’s in your room

I leave the curtain so no ray...

From kitchen to the garden, from the garden to the skies

This is my world of Thursdays where you, the very moon...

The magic of many Brentford autumns

Works on me when I see great leaves

Seem more to glow with life than fade...

If I don’t find you in the rain

I’ll send the rain back up again

The moisture of your mouth is better...

Still it haunts me that I went – 

That I must go again – 

To that woman with morals bent...

What more of love may be said by this garden? 

God’s love and yours have made this minor heaven.

Fingers in earth...

All the cares and despairs of busy days

Can never outweigh my deep content

For I live by your eyes...

‍

You say back to me, at the window, 

Fruitlessly breathing out the fag

Whose smoke blew back into the room...

When things go wrong

As they often do

I sing a song...