Dinner at Eight

Meadow ladies dining on the lunarscape,
Not all flew over. Some landed
Free at last of nursery rhymes,
And childhood's preserved that way.
Though innocence first leaves the eyes,
The heart mooing loudly behind,
We grasp feebly time's hour hand.
What we were stands still the while.
Cat and fiddle jump over the moon,
And we find love in the dreamworld,
Eight-o-clock universal time. 

Dale P. Driscoll
San Diego
02 III 06
For Stephen