The Dying Moon

The Moon cradles
Itself in its arms.
A star glistens
And dies.
And then the Moon
Cries its last dying wish
To be whole
And bright.

To be no more
In a sky of ink
Among the tears
Of stars,
They fall in fire
And wink at the Moon,
Laughing its fears
For not

Be calm, dear Moon,
And dream of the day
With shadows bright
And sweet.
Catch the Night's ink
With your cradled arms,
And tomorrow
Be new.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem