Sometimes I can almost see, around our heads, br Like gnats around a streetlight in summer, br The children we could have, br The glimmer of them. br br Sometimes I feel them waiting, dozing br In some antechamber - servants, half- br Listening for the bell. br br Sometimes I see them lying like love letters br In the Dead Letter Office br br And sometimes, like tonight, by some black br Second sight I can feel just one of them br Standing on the edge of a cliff by the sea br In the dark, stretching its arms out br Desperately to me.