The Moon
The moon, she tells me things
that no one else may hear.
Both, of what to love,
and of what to fear.
She tells me of the future,
then brings me forth the past.
She explains... time is as fragile
as the thinnest pane of glass.
'Tis time for her to leave,
for dawn is creeping near.
When she returns tomorrow
she'll find me waiting here.
