He's still a meadow child, one of the sun
|
I stay in the shadow until he returns
|
and comes back to me
|
|
I write him postcards and letters
|
And he always does reply
|
And tells me sweet tales
|
Of his pastoral life
|
|
He comes back to me
|
|
I wrote postcards
|
He comes back to me
|
|
He's still a meadow child, one of the sun
|
I stay in the shadow until he returns
|
And comes back to me
|
|
-----------------
|
Meadow Child
|
| Charlene Soraia |
