The boy Harry was the brightest thing
you'd ever hope to see.
May looked young enough
to be his baby sister on the beach.
He was Ptolemy's Earth to her.
For a while they knew how it might be
to conquer all the world.
Then they grew old,
growing tired and tongue-tied,
he stopped coming home.
She had no-one to call her own.
She waited for a moment.
Their first baby only fell asleep
under the moving trees.
He was Ptolemy's Earth to her.
Harry gave her too many faces,
too many dark places.
She gave him a boy that was his
and a boy that was not his.
Weary now and wearing out
they tore each other's heart out,
they ripped each other apart.
Say he'd waited there for a moment
then pushed him back to the sea.
They sold up and moved on
Sunday morning father
made of stone.
Alexander stopped here.