A gust of wind comes roaring past.
My dyed-black ringlets waver as
atop my broom I freely fly.
Behind, you clutch me, terrified,
around the middle, for dear life,
and glare down at the road below,
as hard as death is imminent.
If you would simply raise your eyes
from off the pavement to the sky
you’d see the clouds, all flame and fire,
a pink and orange sunset blaze.
Your grip is loosened and I hear
a gasp of wide-eyed wonderment.
We travel on, two sister’s, we,
into the star filled dome of night.