We hold the leaf
In our hand
It is cold and the veins
Have turned orange
Our fingers tremble
But at least the path ahead
Of us is full of lights
We would choose to be high
Up in the canopy
Rather than in the dark of the
Train tracks
That gave me goose bumps
She whispers
Sometimes it feels like
We are walking on a tight rope
Higher than
The Eiffel Tower
When we dream
It is of a distant house
Hidden in the bullrushes
There is a wooden bridge
The splinters cut our feet
The silent hunter
The tawny owl
Flies in the moonlit sky
Hunting out his prey
Quite magical
She declares
As magical as the lunar eclipse
And walking on the road to nowhere
There are so many paths
She says
It is a pity
That you only choose one.
