Week Twelve - Never Far - written in 2004, recorded 2025

Never Far is dedicated to our neighbours Jack and Lorraine. From the moment we moved into our home they were there for us and all of our neighbours. Jack and Lorraine had a pool that everyone swam in, generous, kind human beings, surrogate grandparents to our three children and generations of others. They taught us by example, how community works and caring for each other regardless of our differences.
Jack was a gunner in the airforce during WWII, flying in the belly of a Lancaster bomber.
I wrote this tune after he passed and Lorraine was alone… more lost than alone. It’s a conversation between lovers who refuse separation. 
They will always be lovingly remembered and we are grateful they were a part of our lives. 
You can hear the sound of a Lancaster bomber at the end of the song.

The poem She Walked recalls a woman who walked daily past the orchard north of our home. I always wondered what she was thinking. Poetic licence.

Joy Brooks - Vocals 
Fredrick Brooks - Acoustic Guitar /Keyboards/Bass
Chris Pezzarello - Drums 

<Click here to listen to Never Far>

I am walking alone
Somewhere near the ocean and the stars
Still you are near
Never Far

I feel your heart 
In the garden of rose and thorn
And you like I 
Alone

With my tears I will give you rain
From my mouth I will whisper in your night
We will never be the same
Shadows of life

The last day was never meant for me
A black sky fell one Sunday
Through my soul a bitter wind cried to me
You must leave

Now I am walking alone
Somewhere near the ocean and the stars
Still you are near
Never Far

 

 

Jack Fudge (third from left) WWII

+++++++++
 

SHE WALKED

A woman in gray walked the north road
Past the dark orchards 
Columns of apples and pears
Past the dimming equinox
Calling for fall’s sweet harvest

Spun by the jewel of her flat horizon 
Laden with the weight of journey
She walked
Watched the last pitch of orange light 
Give way to a mottled night sky.


She felt the burden of her starless night pressing
Pondered the waning beauty of the day 
And the sun’s last gasp.


(c) Fredrick Brooks 2022
From the Horizon Collection 

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