At the universe city of Bolton,
students and staff affiliate as one.
Eagerly standing huddled together,
commenting on the cloudy-grey weather.
As the temperature begins to drop,
we crane our necks skywards, and gaze atop.
To watch the moon travel over the sun,
gracefully veiling day, like night become.
The solar eclipse is a stitch in time,
sewing me back to nineteen ninety nine.
Where watching in my family presence,
we giggled as Grandma lost her balance.
Causing her to almost roll down the hill,
then darkness descended, and all was still.
Now I awake from my quiet reverie,
falling prey to a sight that’s so eerie.
For when the clock hands strike 9.23,
the moon does dominate beautifully.
And shivering through shadow is motion,
engulfing the road with sad emotion.
A horse-drawn carriage, honouring death,
warning those alive to value their breath.
Bolton Award Project Officer