There's a moon in the river who talks to me
I visit her nightly to hear what she sees
She tells me stories of metal and glass
And towers of gold and a young country lass
But my favorite story I've heard from the moon
Is the one with warm nights and mellow noons
"The Land of Loving," she says affectionately
"Its lands are lush and soothing is the sea
At dusk the fireflies come out to dance
As only at night are they allowed the chance
To laugh and play with loved ones in the sky
And light dark paths for unsighted passersby
At dawn I hide and watch the sun rise
As he whispers warm awakenings to sleepy magpies
Soft yellow rays paint cool clouds with blush
And the world with honey, golden and plush."
Her words entice me in so many ways
That I yearn for all that the moon portrays
"Oh moon, if only humans were there instead,"
"Oh, no," she replies, "then its beauty would be dead."
