TO THE MOON

(Words from a Selenophile)

Paint me some thoughts, O silver castaway!

 As I trace your sordid cosmic journey,

An eternal crawl across the ebony

sea that kisses the golden shore of day.

Upon the blackened canvas of my gloom

That stands upon sturdy thoughts of despair,

In stellar streams route and shed your cold tears,

Their murmur - the siren call of my doom!

A doom whose cold source I fail to discern

eclipsed by my blissful memories of yore

where ubiquitous your cold presence burns

an elusive warmth is its quaint downpour

Like your cosmic plight salvaged by daylight.

My scarred hope yearns for the shore’s faintest sight