My Father, Dreaming - by
The train glides through a world of frozen white,
/ low mists swirl and smudge the mirror of the Clyde,
/ Helensburgh stretches…
The train glides through a world of frozen white,
/ low mists swirl and smudge the mirror of the Clyde,
/ Helensburgh stretches…
I wake when the wind changes.
/ Beyond the dark Firth far,
/ Where the waves clap and the tides rustle and the herring…
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