Wandsworth Windows

Big Wandsworth windows Pleasure in the panes Redwood pine trees Growing out of their frames Lifting the paint Raising Basement Flat A stories high When you're inside I used to glance out of them, now I am gazing in You ain't cleaned your windows since I've seen saints in the stains Words and verses in your curtain's frayed lace Fear found a place in me In your grandparents' basement in Wandsworth we shared some space Then I moved away Not far geographically But a hard march of a thousand days In the blue light of the heart's highway In the landscape of love and blame Well the artist upstairs left you sketches of Spain I gave my youth to you You gave me everything You coulda gave