My hair has grown much longer now

Than ever I have let it grow,

And through the strands a vision massed;

I’m standing on the waving grass

Near ancient castles and the sea.

Her wings in motion passing me.

A hundred years pressed into one

And down the line of summer’s sun

Like golden glass solidified,

They track the path beneath my eye.

I’ve come but close to loving birds

And find in them her whispered words,

Lightened feathers freely dancing,

Darkened streets where I am passing,

Storefront windows packed with glasses,

At all times to me she fastens.