( RE Broughton )

Sitting,laughing at the mindless humanoids

croaking in their swarm.

While recalling Omar Khayyam.

How we changed there in the holy sun high on

holding hands.

The pilot crashed with Rupert Brooke they blew

together fast on other levels.

He spoke, softly, opened by the wine.

A father pushing fear and looking for redemption.

Someone hurry he thought as the waves rolled

their way through concentration.

It's all too much he seemed to want to say but

could not make the necessary juncture.

How he loved lady by my side.Rococo lady,

daughter of the African the westernized.

He is searching for whole to be in to make himself.

How we changed there in the holy sun high on

holding on.

You,you might be different I can see it in your eyes.

You,you might be something I can read it in

your sign.