In between worlds they ride and they ride

never look back, not to set down for an instance

like a gyroscope caught in mid-air

their voices leading the way

but to where


In between worlds she stares me down

I do not follow, or at least I intend not to

but I can’t help it, intrepid fox

beautiful shiny fur, I run my fingers through


Never has he asked me this before and now I stand here

different than before and yet what's changed

the air is thinner up here not sweeter

not sweeter


In between worlds he talks to me

like this icy cold wind from the north

when I duck into my oversized scarf I shall miss his words

his words his words

but the icy cold wind, it smells so promising

new snow falling soon


In between worlds that beautiful woman there takes my hand

but first I must disintegrate and become a flightless bird

shaded by the mother hen from the African sun

I won’t die of thirst, luckily we’ll reach the water hole first


I mourn the loss of innocence

the sitting in my tree and telling stories to the horses

the horses, the white horses

it feels like the sun scolds my skin, it’s leaving marks

no feathers left, I’ll burn


And there he rides in between worlds

in between worlds

a feather pinned to his silly proud hat

was never the same again

the same again never for me

he’s gone now, older, wiser or simply disintegrated

to become a flightless bird

shaded by his mother hen from the scorching sun.