The moon is a crescent, Upside down she rests Like a bat to a cave, She burns bright Just so you can see at night, Hovers in the sky, She bares shadows Like holes in the brains Of the kids with no names That sit in alleys Spraying cans in bags Taking deep drags Until it all goes To their heads. She shines holding Favorite past-times, A sign that never fades, A symbol that has been Since before you came, Rain or shine She is All the time, Rhymes with the sky, Runs along the seas With algae daring To sweep you from Your feet, She is not convinced, Does not repeat, She is not underneath A black leather seat, Shines through the trees, If alone in a forest Its just you and her And nothing else Could occur At that divine moment, She is showmanship, A good sport, She does not sort Laundry.
Posted on: Sat, 09 Nov 2013 10:05:54 +0000
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