And now the days sit in my hands
Like the shadows of old money,
Spent and gone.

The ticking of the clock chases me
From room to dust filled room,
Dancing through the godbeams

Through the walls, through the doors
Still the drumbeat follows and I
Want it to stop

NO - no I don’t, for the echoing, chattering
Voice of fear will take its place.
No, it can’t stop, not now.

Is there a single room that I have yet
To find, the one that is not
Painted the colour of fear.

You know the colour, the one that
You chose and painted two full coats
So it would not fade away.

The pallid colour of the death of all things,
Of peace of mind, of love unadorned,
Of happiness, and trust, and hope.