Sylvia, put on your pinafore
the children are going out to play
in houses hit by bombs-
where clammer hits the clay.
It is time to strap your boots,
let your heels fall where they may.
Time will heal all your wounds,
but for now it is time to play.
The cold wind came so quickly that year-
turning snap dragons into grey.
And the one who loved you most of all has left you astray.
Tie the pink ribbon in your hair for her, and let the anger wash away.
Melt cold and cool under greying skies and marmalade sunshine rays.
The war it shall be over soon, but sad songs tuned to play,
for fleeting sorrows never grow old, even with the coming of New Day.
You know the desire to bury this-
a memory long forgotten.
But time reveals the deepest plot,
without the slightest pardon.
For you I wish this simple wish, this simple wish for you-
let ashes turn to cinder wings and float out to the blue-
the clearing air will melt away all signs of your sorrow,
setting you free for all your new tomorrows.
