Polly Blue

When the moon is hidden and the town’s asleep She heads out to the woods till it’s tangled and deep Lending her ear to the voice that’s never fake Her limbs turn to lichen, her mind is a lake There’s no use in looking for her hiding place She leaves no trace In an old world city she has you hunting for clues By a secret door you spot her white tennis shoes Down a ceiling beam dangle her ropes To strangle your blues and stir up your hopes Her whip makes no mark that her lips won’t erase She leaves no trace Her father was a hunter, she was his only son King of courtyard scuffles, handy with the gun When her favourite hound got terminally ill Dad said: keep your eyes open and your heart still There is no pain that death won’t outpace She leaves no trace If you be her flower, she’ll guard you inside Through petrified fields as the seasons collide She will frown and see through you and pull you close But you’d better not ask where she comes and she goes Her heart is a hawk that doesn’t give chase She leaves no trace You might have met her on her morning walk Single mother by choice, dislikes small talk She teaches your kids, lives in the flat next door Buys bell-bottom jeans at the local store Sometimes the absolute wears a plain face She leaves no trace