when my skein has run out
and my work and my time here is ended
I should like to depart
with the knowledge I'm visibly mended

ref:
my heart will be darned
with a radiant yarn
my soul will be patched
and the colours won't match
and my mind will be visibly mended

I will leave my old house
in a chaos of unrivalled measure
amid tasteful antiques
there are knicknacks and trinkets and treasure

there's a battered old box
stashed away for the kids to discover
they will marvel and cringe
over letters I wrote to my lover

ref:
my heart will be darned
with a radiant yarn
my soul will be patched
and the colours won't match
and my mind will be visibly mended

my workshop and lab
filled with projects I barely got started
flights of fancy, designs
and gadgets not for the faint-hearted

the cat will be fine
I have left him a well-supplied larder
he'll have comfortable days
I worry that yours will be harder

ref:
my heart will be darned
with a radiant yarn
my soul will be patched
and the colours won't match
and my mind will be visibly mended

far back on the shelf
with the bottles, I've left you a letter
behind the old scotch
- not that one - the Speyside's much better

when my purpose was lost
you alone knew just how to unearth it
right here at the end 
you knew me, you know it was worth it

ref:
my heart will be darned
with a radiant yarn
my soul will be patched
and the colours won't match
and my mind will be visibly mended

there is no going home
you are your home
it left with you
the turtle, snail and hermit crab
already know what you will find
there is no going home

for nothing stays the same
you left your home
behind that door
it altered sure as sun will set
it grew and changed unrecognised
for nothing stays the same

your friends are not the same
the ones who stayed
are older now
the rest are gone - they have moved on
all scattered by the restless winds
your friends are not the same

there's only moving on
you're driving down
a one-way street
the rear-view mirror giving up
your homeward journey far away
there's only moving on

there is no going home

I was born on the day of the dead
on a bed laid with coal
not a saint nor a soul
can remember the words that were said

ref:
all things pass
faint reflections in broken glass
tolling bells
wreaths forgotten and last farewells

I have walked among men all my life
although distant, apart
with a smoldering heart
I have witnessed their romance and strife

ref:
all things pass
faint reflections in broken glass
tolling bells
wreaths forgotten and last farewells

I stood still in the slipstreams of life
never young, never old
never hot, never cold
I was calm when the passions ran rife

ref:
all things pass
faint reflections in broken glass
tolling bells
wreaths forgotten and last farewells

all my friends and familiars are gone
as the mountains wear down
as the comets come round
I will welcome the day I am done

ref:
all things pass
faint reflections in broken glass
tolling bells
wreaths forgotten and last farewells

I like dead leaves
and frozen ponds
and halloween
and most things in between

I like cold air
and waning light
and misty breath
and lanterns greeting death

ref:
The wheel is turning
yuletide's coming
darktime lingers
fingers numbing
frozen fingers
lanterns burning
winter's in the air 
each breath a frozen prayer

I like loud steps
and frosted trees
and falling snow
not melting on my brow

​I like birds gone
and grasses slain
and life on hold
all dormant in the cold

​ref:
The wheel is turning
yuletide's coming
darktime lingers
fingers numbing
frozen fingers
lanterns burning
winter's in the air 
each breath a frozen prayer​

I like the sun down
the dark outside
the light inside
and heavens open wide

I like dark glass
and icy walls
and northern lights
and never-ending nights

ref:
The wheel is turning
yuletide's coming
darktime lingers
fingers numbing
frozen fingers
lanterns burning
winter's in the air 
each breath a frozen prayer

​the mirror's shouting decades at me
the bedroom is on strike
the attic's filled with goblins
while the windows take a hike

the mirror's shouting decades at me
and everything's a mess
there's fighting in the closet
I am bludgeoned by a dress

ref:
there are heartaches in my pockets
and cobwebs in my beard
my glasses have all melted
and the bookshelf's acting weird

​the mirror's shouting decades at me
the kitchen is on fire
the parlour hosts a riot
and the mailbox is a liar

the mirror's shouting decades at me
the doorbell is in doubt
there's an uprising of boxes
in the basement, breaking out

ref:
there are heartaches in my pockets
and cobwebs in my beard
my glasses have all melted
and the bookshelf's acting weird

the mirror's shouting decades at me
foulest in the land
but I'm comforted by lampshades
and defiant I still stand
yes defiant I still stand

​I’ve lived by the ocean
Connected 
to every coastline there is
The sea spray
The gulls
the scent of engine oil
Carrying promises 
Undeciphered

But it wasn’t home


I’ve lived in the mountains
My mind touching the skies
The air clear as pure thought
Cool as naked solitude
The land it’s own map
Laid bare
Free of trees

But it wasn’t home

I am clearly not young
At best I'm not old
Or at least not that old
I've made
Good choices and bad ones
But all told
I fear I was not that bold

I’ve been broken and healed
Torn apart, 
gathered together
visibly mended
an autumn graft
It’s winter now
But I am not that cold

​ours is a house of books
bound in leather and cardboard and cloth
stacked on windowsills, bookshelves and stairs
treatises, comics and tomes
atlases, leaflets and box sets
books with stories and fables and myth
books on thinking and science and truth
cookery, poems and art
and books on the binding of books

ours is a house of rooks
and castles and knights and pawns
monopoly money and scrabbled words
trivia quizzes, cluedo and chess
played with varying skill 
and faltering will
joyful and playful and cruel
no prisoners taken
no mercy shown
stomping off and air punched
and alwyas another round

ours is a house of looks
fiery, furtive and flirty
looks that might kill
and looks that invite
looks to keep still
and looks to ignite
looks like a tough one
looks like it's late
and it looks like it's going to rain

​there's a point where all lines converge
a place where all viewpoints merge
all distances shrinking to naught
the endpoint for all trains of thought

the bus-stop at the edge of white
connecting to all lines of sight
there will be a short delay
your departure is next yesterday

there's a time after all events
a moment for final laments
a time where all waiting will end
for every true former friend

the bus-stop at the edge of white
connecting to all lines of sight
there will be a short delay
your departure is next yesterday

there's a cause behind all effects
and all that your mind detects
a cause for this turbulent mess
a reason for each failed caress

the bus-stop at the edge of white
connecting to all lines of sight
there will be a short delay
your departure is next yesterday