Falling Feathers: My Poetry Book

Sun And Moon

I look at her as if she is the Sun.

For she burns ever hotter as I bask in her warmth.

When she is strong, I must look away.

When she is gone, I beg for her to stay.

But I saw her truth.

And now, I look to her as the moon.

I gaze in awe and wonder at her endless beauty.

Her scars and craters make for an indescribable visage, so encapsulating.

I believed she was the Sun.

But now, I see she is the moon.