The Moon and I
Once the sun has dropped to dine
A rock in the sky starts to shine
And I return the smile
For it is the moon, an old chum of mine.
And we gaze at each other
Playing different parts every instant
Once a mistress, once a brother
And then a monster or then a mother.
An untold affection holds us
Awaiting the others varied form:
I'm sometimes pensive, sometimes glum
Sometimes ebullient, sometimes numb.
The moon is so expressive in turn
A crescent of silver, a golden urn
Pleasant laughter, a precocious smile
Angry rubour or sulking black denial
Or sweetly a BIG lump of sugar,
Flying high, in style.
Suddenly then I'm gripped by jealousy
Crying that promiscuity is heresy!
And the Moon flirts all the time
With poets and novelists
And Werewolves... and just wolves
And serial killers and tides.
And then I summon my senses
Reminding me I'm human.
Humans had best be my friends
And not the Moon's terrain,
Or I'll surely turn insane.
Yet, I'll never let this mateship die,
This knot unto myself I tie,
For when all else is gone...
The Loon and the Moon shall live on!
Composed on a cool walk under the beaming full moon mid November 2007