A Gift of Roses

I count the hours: you count the days
Together, we count the minutes in this Passion Play
Walk dusty miles. And I ride that train
On a first class ticket, just to be with you again

Picking up tired feet. Back from a far horizon
Cleaned up and brushed down. Dressed to look the part
Fresh from God's garden, I bring a gift of roses:
To stand in sweet spring water and press them to your heart

Like the Kipling cat, I walk alone -
Never inviting trouble, never casting the stone
But this badge of honour is of tarnished tin
Light your guiding beacon to bring this fisher in