Moon

 

She dresses in long white lace,

Embroidered, intricate

and plays with the night

Our moon, her sweet face

So old, so young,

A girl, a crone.

 

The world sleeps

But I am awake

I welcome her whispers

Wrapped up in my eiderdown

In my cozy bedroom

Her rising and falling

Beneath the blankets

 

Her spirit kisses

On my eyelids

On my cheeks

On my lips

Her tresses

Brushing my shoulders

 

Before I was born

She was

After I die

She will be

Forever

While I live

All I can do

Is sing her song