moonlight strikes your eye

so we turn to face the sun once more
(even though, ere falling, it’s been hid
some time before its lovely brow)
of passions have been rid;

and we gaze, and walk, in moonlight ale
through rosses and orchids and things
and drink deep the wine of future mem’ry
and wonder where all this walking will bring.

down a dark agile street, or up through a zoo;
with tigers, elephants, a lone giraffe
and then back down the hill again
to play in the sand and laugh;

your father and mine, thy’ll come and say
(if we’re willing to finally part)
‘come inside, now, children, and breathe in silence,’
words which break this artificial heart.

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