The Moon and I

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul
I say that the moon is the eye of the world
The convex back of a bowl.

She gazes down at me from on high
Cold but caring, filling my room with silver light
And coloring my dreams with her everlasting shades of white.

I suppose I'm just another poet
Writing a poem about the moon
I suppose I'm not the first to look up and find a song to croon.

I can't be the first to look up to the stars and think
I am a part of this. I am one of millions

Of glowing points of lights
But I shine out into into the darkness
With my finite, bursting light.

I guess when I look up to the sky 
I guess I do believe in God
For it's hard to look up to the sky
And not see the man in the moon nod.
 
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roxyforthewin

MA

YWP Alumni

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