The sunlight streamed on to the empty pews
and illuminated the mixed wood
I sat as I always did in the shadows near the Lady Chapel

You were sitting in the pink desert looking
at the snow-capped mountains
which lay trapped in the middle distance of your view

With happiness in your voice you told me
of the Buddhist stupas which raged radiantly
in the freezing wild winds

You told me of the sudden hail storms
with ice as sharp as knives
cutting all but the innocent down

I replied and created the soft smells
of the church for you
I introduced you to the humble airs that cared for me

Let us meet on the highest pass
you said to me and taste
the many colours that have dazzled

But you knew that I would never leave
the confines of my comfort
as you would never leave yours

Yet we will walk hand in hand
across the blush desert
towards the magic mountains