19 till I die

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 mat