It takes tales to run along
past the mast of the unseen flag
the one that comes and flies along
after decades of the lost light
flights and unending ghostly journies
the freedom recovers the day
wrapped up on the winter cruise
bruised by the western winds
on the gravel country lanes
where soil is the only savior
upon amber- brown rusty folds
past reason why the sun rises
beyond the cradle of the waning moon