The white face of the moon.
It hangs on a bed of stars outside
In the sky beyond my high window.
I lay in the dark
With but a single beam of glow,
The silver stream floods into the room.
Shadows, the remains of darkness,
They watch ready to pounce when my moon wanes.
The feline shadows wait,
They wait to see if I reach.
In the high windowed room I sit,
Clouds veil the moon's face,
My arms wait for a sign,
A sign to reach again,
To reach for hope.
But if I try to give up,
If I reach the moon,
Will I have succeeded, or failed myself,
For the wonders of:
The Moon
