She
is like the moon
Appearing once a month,
Always brilliant, yet always fleeting
Reflecting everything that
Is good in my own soul.
Her
pull on my oceanic waters
Rushes over me and I overwhelmed
By this force of nature.
I
long for the times she bears
Her radiance on me so I may sit
Bathing in her silvery shadows of surreal glow.
Looking down from her high perch
Fully aware of me sitting in my adoration.
She watches in fascination of my love
I have for such an unattainable celestial being…
And yet, can she not help but love back.
The
moon is a mystery,
Who can explain her secrecy?
Who has a clue
Who has the right
Even a poet cannot define her soul.