Gas is running out. Coal is
running out. Patience is exhausted.
Sage is just an antiquated word,
and thyme moves on inexoriably.
When beauty becomes the name of a blurred remembering
Beyond the helping hand of hearing aids and spectacles
I will run out into the street like a lost toddler
Screaming to be reconnected.
Thing about souvenirs of time gone past
you make to move they try to hold you fast
the hands they used to tie her with their warnings to the gate
brought out the knife to cut her tether and a reason for escape
There is no running when your feet are bound
those too full arms will pin you to the ground
she would wear no shoes of lead now or the wishes of the dead
now running free was playing on her cards and dancing in her head
Turns out running is a thing she had to do
because this life was in a hurry she was too
she ran till no-one tried to stop her then she stopped –
Thing about travelling life so hard and fast
is the love you leave behind your running past.