Or even thirty years
Something to do with control
In the fields of walking
Walking
By the reservoir
Walking
Along the country lane
Walking
With my daughter in a push-chair
Walking
With just a babe-in-arms
Today
By the leat
Or stream
Or brook
With sunlight
In place of control
And quiet enough
To hear the ticking clock
Quiet enough
To think
That in a while I could settle
To think about settling
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