Only Love Is On The Moon I search in the lambent lights of the city, the flames of the reticent; secret, living. Awake in their vague yet vibrant visions, cast from the lustre of their beginning. Amid all is she, vivacious and pretty, the sky her reflection and all is maroon. But where to find what I am not missing? Only, love it seems is on the moon. That memory, an echo, now it is feeble, a taste lays faint against my lips. When it has faded, farewell ambrosia for I held so long, but had to slip. Where are the lights and #life of the city, which sits in silence, with colour subdued? Gone is the radiance and with it the revel, to ponder the base of the mysterious rule.
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Sienna Williamson
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Alex Harland
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