Written in the months after my mother’s death. I had already written ‘Before Time‘, but somehow more needed to be said.
I am very pleased with this song – it captures that moment and the possibly peculiar way that I dealt with the grief. Losing one’s mother is something that everybody goes through, but at the same time is completely unique. I found myself conversing with her, and imagining her taking part in the everyday ritual of walking with me, and Gwen, my dog. Making this into a song has also had the side effect of capturing that little part of our lives here – the wood, the view from the top of the hill, Gwen herself, and what all those things mean to me.
Do you still walk?
And if you do do you think about us?
The way I think of you when I’m walking every day
Through the woods, me and Gwen
I think you’d like the way she’s turned out
A little wild and full of life, but oh, so gentle
Throw a stick, catch a glance
Sometimes she goes a bit too far
She could use your woman’s touch, and I could use your wisdom
Can you see her joy through my eyes?
Can you see her joy through my eyes?
Do you feel her love through my skin?
Do you feel her love through my skin?
I climb the bank
We climb the steep muddy bank through the leaves
Could be the three of us – I’d help you if you’d come
At the top on the bench
From the bell tower of St Peter’s Church
I’m glad you’ve made it up here
Glad you’ve seen what I see every day
Looking down over Talog
People getting ready for the day to come
The sights and sounds of life on a hillside
The sun burns through the morning mist
Can you feel the light on my skin?
Can you feel the light on my skin?
Do you see the world through my eyes?
Do you see the world through my eyes?
Do you still laugh?
Do you still cry?
I only ever saw you cry once
But you could laugh
I still enjoy your laugh
Does a mother ever leave her child?
Does a mother ever leave her child?
