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 Lyrics 
It is eighteen years ago, almost to the day - 
 A sunny day with the leaves just turning (away),
 The touch-line new-ruled - since I watched you play
 Your first game of football, then, like a satellite
 Wrenched from its orbit, go drifting away
 
 Behind a scatter of boys. I can see
 You walking away from me towards the school
 With the pathos things set free
 Into a wilderness, the gait of one
 Who finds no path where the path should be
 
 The hesitant figure, edding away
 Like winged seed loosened from its parent stem,
 Has something I never quite grasp to convey
 About nature's give-and-take - the small, the scorching
 Ordeals which fire one's irresolute clay.
 
 Behind a scatter of boys. I can see
 You walking away from me towards the school
 With the pathos things set free
 Into a wilderness, the gait of one
 Who finds no path where the path should be
 
 I have had worse partings, but none that so
 Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly
 Saying what God alone could perfectly show -
 How selfhood begins with a walking away,
 And love is proved in the letting go.
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