The forests where the adder slept,
And where my loneliness found peace,
Were rich with beechwood Sunday rains,
And softened by the Autumn songs.
The drip of drums through scented larch.
A fractured truth which filled my heart.
Escape and acorns broke the hold
Of screaming homes and severed schools.
I ate the beauty of the earth:
Russula, Parasol and Cep,
I gleaned the music picking hope
In melodies which set me free.
For always are the two entwined:
A Souvenir, a stand of pines.
The forests of South Wales where I heard Souvenir by OMD.