I want to be loose on a landscape
Of tea, with milk and honey and silk
As soft as the sunset.

You will find me in the thundering rain
And I will find purpose. We’ll have a ball
In my old, ragged tent.

I can see it now; the costly wine stains,
Your gown like summer heat in pink,
Or any colour you choose.

We laid in the grass for many a day
And though the drink repaired any rip,
We did not find our roots.

Now those days are past, it is far too late
In the night, in the dark lonely crypt
Of the brightest stars.

Now we may be wild and hope we stay sane,
While holding hands like we’re young, yes,
Doll, we’re a picture- true art.