Treasure Island

Fergus Michael Condron

(02/05/1963 / London South East)

Blue Noodles And The Silver Moon

Twas christmas time in Oxford street, we shopped for presents, trying to be discreet, carols and lights that end so soon, blue noodles and the silver moon.

The cobbled street's of Tunbridge Wells, each time we kissed, it rang the bells,
love is all, when all cocooned, blue noodles and the silver moon.

Riding elephants on a Thailand beach, tsunami heartbeat and gentle feet,
blood red sky and clouds that swoon, blue noodles and that silver moon.

Summer in Paris, arms entwined, I loved you so, for you were mine, caress the louvre, mime the rhymes, bastille gate's they sense a crime, wicked feats condemn and soon,
blue noodles shiver beneath frightened moon.

Barcelona nights of a fashion lust, a tapas dawn and velvet crush, sense foreboding and creeping doom, blue noodles choke by a crying moon.

So tell me then, what changed your mood? I hoped to seek of a heart turned crude,
we said goodbye and I thus conclude, farewell blue noodles, adios sweet moon.

Submitted: Friday, October 23, 2009
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