I'm home again in my old narrow bed
where i grew tall and my feet hung over the end
the low beam room with the window looking out
on the soft summer garden
where the boys grew in the trees
Here i grew guilty
and no one was at fault
frightened by the power in every innocent thought
and the silent understanding passing down
from daughter to daughter
let the boys grow in the trees
Do you go to them or do you let them come to you
do you stand in back afraid that you'll intrude
deny yourself and hope someone will see
and live like a flower
while the boys grew in the trees
Last night i slept in sheets the colour of fire
tonight i lie alone again and curse my own desires
sentenced first to burn and then to freeze
and watch by the window
where the boys grew in the trees