Under the umbrella moon

I saw a girl despair

Above the sour apple tree

I knew something wasn’t there

 

Where could it be; I thought aloud

And those nearby me heard

A head tossed over shoulder

A frown – don’t say a word

 

The unbeknown, the silent voice

Spoke words I dare not write

The page – a blank

The stage – the same

For neither would they fight

 

Doth the chalkboard speak to them

From under the apple tree it grew

The umbrella moon – a sweet perfume

That few of us knew

 

To be the silent voice

That articulates dismay

How on earth we reach this verge

Then slip – and fall away?

Published by Owen Tilley