Don’t sing to yourselves, my loves,
turn your eyes, your lips
to my still growing hair.
Sing to me in my grave,
where I still dream,
still work my needles,
knitting our shadows
together.
still work my needles,
knitting our shadows
together.
So sing loud,
sing often, my loves.
Wake me
from this long sleep
from this long sleep
if only in your hearts.
Copyright (c) 2012 Ellen McCarthy. All rights reserved.
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