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