There was a whisper that you were coming
a rumour, a vague undertow
You can change things with your magic
That’s why we are afraid of you
We are too scared to let you in
The delicate touch of your soft hands
can damage us. It can burn our skin
and yet we talk fondly of your visits
You slow us down, force us to look
afresh at ourselves. You are no secret
On any street, you are an open book
Like an old friend who can bless or kill
you line the brook and lie on top of the hill
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