Whose Moon Is It?

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Whose moon is it above the mist dell this night?
Its wondrous acclaim in the hearts of many,
They seek the comfort of its gentle light,
washing over unspoken secrets in silv'ry breath.
 
Whose moon scoops up saddened dreams,
And spins them into brilliant threads
That wrap each hurt within its bosom,
Every life-wish resurrected from the dead?
 
Is it your moon whose tendrils interlace
the trellised garden of your deepest secrets?
Or is it mine, perched with thoughts of your heart
Poised solitary beneath a darkened sky?
 
Does it prevent your friend from losing you,
Or, perhaps, keep you from losing their heart?
Does moon-shine bathe your hopes, loves, and cares,
Its caress sustain them until light of day protects?
 
Does the genial moon belong to each of us,
Its barren surface bright with tranquility
Offering hope for unforeseen tomorrows,
While life glides safely in our sleep.
 
 
 



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Reviews

[J. C. Koch]

The language was beautiful