Mr Moon

Through the darkness, the moonlight cuts
A lonely gaze which I return;
Two friends greet each other once more,
Stoic; intimate: cold light burn.

Weary wanderer watches us.
The hoariest of observers,
Mankind’s patient companion.

A cold caress illuminates,
Gentle benevolence, the hushed
Pale faces, once florid now sleep.

I lay silent; enamoured with
The nocturnally present sphere.
Wondrous patterns creep around me.

A shadow emerges above,
There’s a recess in the plaster;
Great cavernous voids open up,
Like my friend’s pocked facial features.

Through nights of cloud or crisp cold air,
The giant alabaster stare,
Onward with the journey path,
I track progress o’er a starry cloth.

This sight; that light; another night.

Chased once again in a bluing morn.
Restfully, retreating raging dawn.

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