poem twenty-eight

To the Moon

Glowing white
In the starry night
Lingering high above

Watching life below
In luminous glow
Whiter than any dove

When I’m getting dressed
Or over-stressed
It’s there, and then I think of:

“What do you want?
You want the moon?
Just say the word,
And I’ll throw a lasso around it
And pull it down.”

“Fly me to the moon,
Let me play among the stars.”

“Moonlight becomes you
It goes with your hair…”

And it goes on to glow white
Against the starry night
Illuminating the above