In the wandering maze of the mind
dead ends and threads ends,
bedsteads and redheads, empty huts
and bicycle sheds
tracks to run down in the rundown
old town,
but it's what I remember.

A map is of no use or that's my excuse
and such as it is it will do,
in this wilderness
I am at home, it's the place that I knew,
where I grew up,
never known any different and
yet I get lost.

And at times when my mind is light and clear
I can still see her
smiling across the widening years.

I raise a glass in salute
and say cheers
then swim through the river of tears
to the waterfall of fears
and
back to the wandering
maze.