Adagio… Hanging There, Unwav’ring
O’er th’aural landscape rest the guiding waves.
P’rhaps we won’t stop anymore, now there’s no space – seat or floor.
I have, these recent years, fallen, somehow, in to writing about Bristol over and over again.
Just what love is; just what it means.
It is a song of poems – different parts in different verse throughout a night exchanging stories.