It rises swift before my waking eyes
Amidst a sea of darkest midnight blue,
With smiling face and surface made of yew,
It disappears before the sun will rise.
But over time it thinks it needs to hide;
A lack of courage on its part ensues,
And in its speckled cloak of blacks and blues
It disappears from sight, despite our cries;
But it does not stay away for very long
It wishes to gift the world with its fair light,
And touch the night with the likes of Pluto's noon,
And hear the nightingales sweet midnight song.
So to you, look up before it again takes flight,
And witness the cold beauty of the moon.
