Shoes have been walking the rain A troubadour wandering, wondering, wild Looking for answers, asking the child Dwelling Salt creeping over the toes Dwelling Dwelling Town changing shape in the rain The sea doesn't even come close any more I’ve no reasons left to return to this shore Dwelling Time folding back upon time Dwelling Dwelling House growing old in the rain The touch of a banister waiting On spindles diminishing, tracing the shape of a Dwelling My fingers recall themselves into a fist Dwelling Dwelling
Dwelling
In my dreams I often go back to the town where I grew up, to taste the sea air and recall the touch of the banister in the hallway of the house I left behind.