Of Norfolk

The whisper of silver leaves under wide skies

In ancient tongues asking me

Where are your dreams now

Wild lass, wild lass

Only wreathed as silver strands in your hair

The willows are calling me

Back to the water lands

Windmills to the sea

Where river and sand flat and blue martins ply

Under the old cobbles

A shore of brick and stone

In memory of a place once we called home

Where are your dreams now

Wild lass, wild lass

Only wreathed as silver strands in your hair

Lost to the pine wind in the wild sea air

All your dreams travelled

A gathering storm

But your heart is a vaulted cathedral where angels sing

And love, ripe red and burnished

Beats to the steady drum

And here is hope, the living prayer, unfurled to the wind

The whisper of silver leaves under wide skies

In ancient tongues asking me

Where are your dreams now

Wild lass, wild lass

And I shout into the returning tide

Of the mud and salt and iron hard bone

Of barrel wood, frayed rope

And shells turned to stone

Of the stained glass and old songs

And cornfields' ripe gold

Where river and sand flat and blue martins ply

Under the old cobbles

A shore of brick and stone

Now memories of a place once we called home