Holding hands with Amber,
As a sweet melody plays.
There are bells in the distance,
As her crafted face stares at empty space.

I could point out a thousand stars,
but none seemed bright enough.
Her interest captured,
by her own hands.

Stuck in mud,
that sound could not wash away.
The beat intense,
But events quite clear.

Apollo has alined the stars
and the planets stand still.
Almost to attention.
To the dying embers.

GRAHAM MURPHY