We stole the mustard colored truck, named the Colonel
and drove up to the clearing on top of the mountain tonight.
Orange and purple in the twilight sky
had just been swallowed up by the darkness tonight.
The dry dirt road was steep to the top,
and was lined with cracks, crevices, and holes tonight.
The colonel, so old, I struggled to find the gears,
while my friends bounced and jumbled to and fro in the bed of the truck tonight.
Our last quest to the top.
A summer full of nights like tonight.
We dangled our legs over the edge of the colonel
and as usuall the dry and warm air moved with a breeze and graced over us tonight.
From memory, I recited one of David’s hymns:
‘for you are always with me, you hold my right hand’ tonight.
‘A falling star,’ she yelled
I returned, ‘that’s the seventh tonight.’
Time stretched on and he sang:
‘oh its such a shame for us to part’ tonight.
Down the mountain we rolled, like an eighth falling star.
yes, such a shame for us to part tonight.
‘David’, said the Colonel, ‘Yes?’ I replied
‘Never forget the grace of that breeze you felt tonight.’