do not wait

for the moon to be full

before you can love her

full is only a fragment

of what she does

new and waxing

waning then new

a sliver

a bowl

a claw

she does it best

and you can’t beat

a gibbous moon

for constancy

despite ever changing

she does not

desert the sky

Let’s get this over and done with before @soulreserve drops another lunar bomb in my mind. One of you is bad enough.

Does the Moon rise
only after twilight?

Twilight seeps in many shades
Of civil and
of nautical and
looking up towards the stars.

But she cares not.

With crescent limb a-dangle
nakedness for all to see
she splashes out some little stars
without care for decency.

Since she cares not.

Rules and time and haughtiness
are a folly made by man.
The Moon will rise and fall
cavort as she sees fit.

Oh, she cares not.

The water overflows and paints
nebulae across the sky.
No speck of shame her languor so
immersed with carefree sigh.

You see, she cares not.

She orbited before such things
she’s lived here all along.
Delicate, offended eyes should
stay down where they belong.

Oh how we poets adore the moon! Here is my contribution, moved by what you both uschi-the-listener and @thewordsmithsforge wrote <3


how the moon
plays in the shadows
while I stand
in silky moonlight,
his touch everywhere,

to all the stars
that twinkle
around him
it must seem
a silly girl
with silly dreams,
he’s just a little
out of reach…

you think
he will meet my gaze
one day
look down
reach down
for a kiss
one day
if only its
one moment
we share?

© SoulReserve 2018

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