when you and I were young
we would press our white faces from the car
Ans the rain on the windows would run through the gathering dark

And the lampposts shone and dogs would run into the dying frame
where the park was glowing dimly through the silence of the lanes
And the radiators hum rose above the falling leaves
where so fragile and so young you had drifted into sleep

I've been for a walk
And every face I see seems to be mine
night-time comes
the birds have flown
a fever glows in every line

I love this season
this weary night
the flint the dreams the silent pines
the eeriness
is in the feeling
that I have finished everything

And a child from the school was running back to her car
And her white face cried she was deaf and afraid of the dark

And the whispering house grew still as we stared into the night
in the garden and the lamps and the window's fading light
And though Christmas was the same, we had seen another year
turning softly through the flames