For the Crescent Moon

The silvery glow of a soft crescent moon woke me 
last night, as it laid a kiss upon my cheekbone... 

It traveled across my room's window, 
toying lovingly with me as it 
inched across the framed window, 
little by little, but, oh...so low.

O crescent moon, must you travel?

Whither thou goest? Can you not stay? 
May I put you on a string and bob you up and then down?

Or is it a game we must play? 

I track you. I trace you.

You travel (away.) I open my eyes wondering...

are you gone yet? Will you...stay? 

Yet, you tease me. Crescent, to my amazement,
you paste yourself in the inky black night sky
and soft glow 
as a sliver of an orb 
with a twin companion star 
twinkling near you.

I embrace you, this night,

and hold you as if you are Friend.

Fresh with new meaning, 
the words in Moore's wintry poem 
echo through my sleepy head.

"The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,

gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below."

You have given me a kiss of light. 
I delight in you, Crescent Gold. 
You leave me hoping in beauty.

Bathe me in the touch...
of your milky white caresses. 

Banish me to your kingdom, Crescent.

I shall await your return, O Solemn One.
You are ever watchful,

ever faithful, 
iridescent,

incandescent

Crescent Moon.

And this I sing for you:

"Au clair de la lune

Mon ami Pierrot

Prête-moi ta plume

Pour écrire un mot."