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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
Written by Owen Tilley
6 years ago 
