Big feeding little
As they glide along home
On a fast moving bicycle.
(I think it was applesauce)
Father and son.

Sometimes one just has to wear red shoes,
Riding tandem on a bicycle when there is no room to ride tandem
Being close where there is no place to be close
Riding tandem

They think they are like sugar,
the people stay away in the dark

While the music for the soul plays,
plays from the heart

They think they are like sugar,
melting  sugar in the rain

Not understanding to come out and  melt like sugar is
what is needed to hear the musicians play

Melting like sugar
Like sugar in the rain

Walking
Face in the wind at night
Cold
Chilling the swirling golden molecules
of one’s thoughts to be swept away
into the darkness of the white capped sea