The seafront is long there, and it takes a fair time to walk to the cliffs' end and breathe with the sea....He needs this so badly, the space & the silence, for loss is a cold pain, reluctant to leave.... But there is his father, and his father too, it's just for a moment - they smile and say we'll see you later. Hey, wait a minute I don't get this - we need to stop here and talk this thing through. Why are you dressed up like it's Sunday, what's all the hurry and where are you goin' and why can't I go with you ? He turns from the headland, wonders where he's been, glances at faces who can't see a thing. But he has his senses and he has his reason, he may face his Winter but he'll have his Spring.... The seafront is long there, it may last forever so much illusion this side of the sea The old voices whisper and I stop to listen which words the wind's song, and which words for me ? For there is his father.... Hey, wait a minute....