Those last rays that struggle to survive, that cool breeze at half past five,
Roasted corn and salted nuts, balloon monkeys, were all alive.
Broken toys and chattering children, frozen hearts and gossiping women
Swollen eyes and the setting summer; over all these passed a breeze silken.
There lay a book upon the sand, a little tattered, scribbled by hand;
It’s leaves fluttering hopeful and exhausted, but on a new page the moon did land.
