This Dream in the Mist
  
Spare a little moment, think awhile of Paul,
lying in the graveyard under dark crumbly soil.
Much loved friend and brother, so sorely missed,
like the sunset that hangs over this dream in the mist.
  
Darkness in the evening, shadows where I stand,
searching for the memories in some distant land.
I want to see him clearly; Paul, come closer than this...
But all I remember is this dream in the mist.
  
Is there a spectre that would catch me when I fall
as I walk without pain through a carbon fibre wall?
Tears on my face, crushed flowers in my grip
and all I have left is this dream in the mist.
  
Sweet is the grief-filled silence, words I’ve never heard...
Funny how Paul’s feet in dreams never touch the earth.
In a world full of sorrow, his death was a cruel twist,
yet the wraith hides his face from this dream in the mist.

13/07/98