PROMANADE

PROMANADE

We taste the moons desire
That wanders in this strutting crowd,
And feel its coldness as a fire
To stoke the hearts that makes us proud.

Swift passage of a ghostly light
That pulls us here and where?
A guide that beckons on a wondrous flight
Then leaves us dry on an acrid air.

Yet the breeze that promised sight
Still blows and swirls within our mind.
Such fools! Making kisses on this darkest night,
We're still searching the others of our kind.