Cathy by Olivia Graham

Silent as the grave, I walk upon the heather’d moor.
Distant candle in the gloom reminds me of you;
When we walked upon the self-same moor,
Laughing at death - how she sighed!
We were immortals then,
And I
Really believed that I could
Fly.

Lapwing, sing your song!
I’m sorry that he killed your young.
He is a cruel and hateful soul;
Don’t tell him how I loved him so.
I’ve always been a child at heart;
Living so impulsively.
Well, the final joke’s on me,
‘Cause I’m
Not who I’m meant to
Be.

Made a deal with some dark fae;
They’ve come to take my mind away.
Still I walk the heather’d moor
The way that we two did before.
No rest, no rest! I shall not sleep
’Til you are here with me.
You’ll hear her singing on the wind:
The cry
Of a lapwing
Longing to be
Free.

• Celtic
• Emily Brontë
• Folk
• Wuthering Heights
• Yorkshire
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• fantasy
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• ghostly
• gothic
• gothic folk
• new age
• singer-songwriter
• traditional
• York