I have an interesting relationship with the moon. At times I have written about it in a very negative light. This one celebrates its beauty and complexity, and hope.
Rose tipped clouds drift in lazy splendour
Weary sun slides in its nightly bath
Sighs its fatigues of the worn out day.
Moon tiptoes silently down her path
Tonight, her face seems richer in beauty
Tonight, I see her with wiser, clear sight
She stills shines softly in silver skirts
But I also see swirls of refracted light.
And I'm touched by the hope that these rainbow hues
Will caress all that lies in her gentle glow
Lighting the night, as darkness melts
Into star sparkled tides that sing and flow.