Bicycles ran as honey over my drums

And our moon did gift goosebumps of gratification

As I thanked her for lighting my way,

Though little did I know of any way.

Sycamores on the skirts

Silhouettes as the space of everything possible to know,

Though not by me.

And a road in the yonder

Blessed with direction but little destination

And lights with no enlight

Beyond the A and the B.

Neither would exist here.

Our moon wandered me to the centre of my black

The artificial glow of secure insecurity shone down the path

In competition with the light of question

And winning for proximity, against the will of its beholder.

The glimmer of all we know does poison all we wish upon

And none I know had witnessed the glow of family

Before the glow of our exploit.

The black and the bicycles did dance with me here

Holding me still and staring in a separate place

Beyond sight and will we remained still and yet forever moving in mind

Together and all alone.

Our moon,

Revered and haloed above the horizon

Had lost her family

Save the greatest persevered

Who would speckle our sky with a limp recollection of its wonderful dance.

And how sad it must be

To reach our Earth and never be seen

To twinkle for life and not one will wish.

The black and the bicycles will mourn with me here

For our lost friends and our lonely family would dance amongst us

If only they were able.