Rae

A crescent moon at Easter, I know why I'm loved, but want to be free, surrounded by icy streets, I turn my jacket up, to a steady pea green sea, have I reached a breach, Our Lady holds a dove, no matter who gets released, it’s a cold light believing, in this time of trouble, if I can skip the seasons, by the ferry at Seacombe, I wander past dockside rubble, scream a daughter's feelings, no prayers for the cheaters, my family’s good enough, but cannot know the reason, why I cut so rough.