Hidden Gold
H
Hazel Durham
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My thoughts are painting
Windswept seascapes,
With the evenings drawing in
As I pull the heavy drapes,
Across your frantic fever,
Lit by your impatient blue eyes, that lures
My love, as I try to please you,
Even with your constant sighs that endures,
Time is like a clockwork of your rigid control,
To capture each day,
Never allowing it to escape and roll,
Along this stretch of Ardmore beach,
Always out of your mind's reach,
A practical song is the music you teach,
Hear my lullaby that squeeze's life,
Like it was a fully ripened peach,
With it's juice dripping down your farmer's hands,
At last you taste freedom so soft and luscious
To lighten your secret load,
Maybe you imagine hearing your favourite rock band,
Playing to help you find that hidden gold,
Across this emptiness of forgiving sand.
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