Lady Moon

The Moon’s early evening rise
across the late Sun-lit skies,
releasing the lady of the night,
the day’s meaning takes flight.

Her shadow breath leaves a trace,
a touch like falling fingers of lace.
There, a slight light washed white hue,
paper-white on the early evening blue.

Mesmeric, she offers no religion but love,
a lady’s silver-white scarf cast from above,
which she drapes over humanity at rest,
the good, the bad, and the blessed.

Nightly, souls set sail in the Lake of Sleep,
some forever flounder, forever to keep.
Many founder washed up in the Bay of Dew,
waking startled, hot and sweaty, as if on cue.

With lunar lunacy the driven waters cleave
and seas and bays of seething foam heave.
The Sea of Snakes flush the Sea of Waves
pulling the unfortunate into hidden caves.

The sand white seas washing to eternity
where the Seas of Serenity and Tranquility
wash earthly shores and kiss the sea
and every mortal hope with tomorrow’s plea.

In illness the Sea of Rains hammer down,
stare upwards and catch the Lady’s frown.
Caught and held in the Marsh of Diseases,
tossing us left and right as she pleases.

The Moon fades away, giving way to day
but still she remains, with a pale pastel veil,
moving east to west, never taking a rest,
we catch her face, and hope for the best.

People of the night; firemen, nurses, waiters,
see the Moon’s seas, mountains and craters,
mothers sleep, recovering from their labours.
The new born look up to the Sea of Vapours.

All before setting sail in the Ocean of Storms;
their futures cast adrift, such malleable forms.
With dreams spun under a watery June moon
are nightly refreshed with hope of fruition soon.

We are born to think the Moon is our friend,
with no proof we are careful not to offend;
still bathing our dreams in the Bay of Rainbows
to she who once smiled silver on the pharaohs.