Poetry Moon
The decaying day dies, the dull dark deepens,
I am now in my own element.
For look, I, the wan moon, shines in the murky sky.
It is for your comfort and my satisfaction.
For I am the loyal mistress of the night.
I judge humble humans by what I see,
Select those that inspire my dearest rays
That I may bring fortune on them.
I choose the hour when restful peace reigns,
Despite the chill of the damp night.
Silence is everywhere, 'tis like a drug,
Expectancy is a controlled emotion until
I hear the woman calling, beckoning her love.
I see her enter her glass-walled room,
High up in the tall building. The hour is late,
He enters her arms, 'tis dizzy with scent.
This is the poetry I adore and love best.
I see them lie together in my silvery beams
Of my full moon. Their lips touch briefly.
I wallow lovingly in their velvet warmth,
Till their passion ripples in an euphoric blast.
O how I wish to lie forever with them
And never wake up from their blissful embrace.
Thus satiated I find solace in their love.
Together they stare up at the great mystery
That looms golden above the clouds.
They know my time is up as the first rays
Of the mighty sun blots out my pale light.
But my poem lives on and on and on.
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