Looking upon that orange moon,
That ball of dangerous fire ready to burn at touch, if they close that distance,
The crackle of the wood POPPING!
During that oh so starry night;
Like the sounds of many fireworks,
Heard with the gazes upon it.
Eyes drawn higher and higher,
With no end in sight!
One can die with a gaze along with,
That feeling of wanting to hold in one's hand,
Makes one yearn to extend their hands and hold
Knowing it'll never reach.
That circular flaming item holds more heart
Than the people who take greed as their breakfast each morning,
Chomping on that bowl of greed to break someone's heart.
The moon holding more emotion than that of millions of empathetic people.
Telling you "I'm sorry for your loss,"
And understanding the loss of a loved one.
Like an innocent child being ripped from his mother's arms,
As she slowly fades in his mind at that young age
From each day away and then,
POOF!
She's forgotten,
Until she is told in stories
Told of the crazy things, happy things, the things that broke her heart.
Her memory,
That ball of light,
That moon, living and orange beating heart,
The one that tells me she is still watching out,
Giving the idea that I'm not ever alone even though she has passed,
Though the blood moon passed on the fourth of April;
I will no longer miss your sight as soon as you appear,
On my final moon;
But upon those final hours you, my dear grandmother,
Will lead me to the light, and keep me safe as you did all those years.
You give me the feeling of safety despite your unseen presence.
May 5th, 2017
9:33 pm
YOU ARE READING
From The Heart
PoetryDo you know the times when you want to say something, but can't? Or the times when you are sad and need someone to give you a hug? The times your worst enemy hugs your boyfriend? Or the times you are so angry you punch a locker and have to pay to ge...
