They tramped across the fields behind the church
On a damp day – the wind blowing north-east
Played on patches of snow left in the ditches
And on the banks of the old canal
In the shadow of the big hill
Desperately he said: `I love you
More than I love myself’.
And her eyes
He wasn’t lying.
But what love could you expect
From this tender adolescent who barely
But your eyes
Overhead, clouds gathered, winds veered
It was late.
And having gone too far to turn back now
Hemispheres mutter and gyrate
We knew they would not wait
And now there’s nothing left
Peter Jukes 1979 and 1986