The moon shone unusually bright,
As she woke up to a dazzling light.
All this time, hadn't she slept,
On her bed she lay and wept.
The curtains she raised and out she saw,
Her heart that night was sore and raw.
Grabbed her phone and played a nocturne,
Maybe, to shine now, was it her turn?
In the rhythm as her little head sway,
She even forgot that she dreaded the day,
This little girl was like a snowy owl,
Very pretty but rumored to be foul.
The sun rays always freaked her out,
So, during the days she avoided going out.
For her, the nature had made an exception,
The moon enlarged a lot to be unconventional.
Every night for her was another noon,
Better than the sun was her gleaming lune.
How the nature loved this despicable loon,
Was unveiled by her night-just like afternoon.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Since i can't remember anything........
Raw: strong and undisguised
Nocturne: dreamy, romantic music
Sway: move side-to-side or front-to-back
Foul: wicked
Unconventional: unusual
Loon: lazy fellow or person with confused thoughts
Despicable: miserable
Loon: Latin for moon
-
-
-
Written: 2020.04.24
published: 2021.05.12
In the request of Yangima
YOU ARE READING
Eutony
شِعرA collection of poems from an introvert's point of view . . . . **As for the title, I really liked the word (which means pleasantness of a word's sound)**
