Walker, stop and let me move and check you My sneaky, fleeting moon of reckless birth The light of hope you flashed at dawn has dimmed And flickers weakly, so you squint at Earth.
Walker, stand and let me sit and quiz you Will foes and friends be irked if Mum you tell The bitter tale of woe behind your flu? The trickling tears unseen announce your age.
Walker, stay and let me come and tell you My fleeting moon, I own you dim my light Your sparkling blouse has turned a darker hue You must, I guess, have done a steeplechase.
