Antonia

Who can ever say, who Will warm our bones, when we've been away, the picture's not kind, you can cry but won’t, home is not right, thoughts that are slayed, the same as in war, when things become plain, like the harvest light, with hardly a sound, in a gentle sky, maybe she'll take a train, like winter's love, comes around this way, a horizon bright, she'll navigate alone, feeling what’s right, a line on her face, she'll just carry on, everyone in this game, bears the wounds.