Sycamore

I’m thinking of them
I’m thinking of your new green dress
I saw it unfold on my
Near Bepindton Fair
Tall sycamores, your raven hair
I saw it so slow through the tall grass
I’m thinking of them
I’m thinking of strings through the air
The night was so long and dizzy
Let’s travel again
To fall upon three chimneys well
The tower so low
You were mistaken