You are the apple of my eye
I saw you first in the moon’s hollow sigh
Yodelling aromatically on your bike
Smoother than the speed of light
A babbling brook who overtook
Summer on the way to Hythe
Motormouth of the south
Heading west
In jest
I guess

The cold Fall
Above all
You shook off the leaves
The maple was your staple
Achievement
Melting the magma
Of my heart

Envy moved out
Of doubt
And in with the win
Who sanded their edges
To give hope again
Ad libitum

A light tintinnabula
Walked along behind us
Scruffy and just
Announcing our lust
Like a trail of dust
Yes, we must
Go to the moon again soon