The Mirror and The Moon

Tracking the lunar procession.

Confident rise

and yet humble.

Not so high in the sky,

but I still can’t touch you.

Hanging on every day.

Intimate with sin and virtue.

It still gets under my skin

and it

tears me up inside.

Watching that mirror fade

everyday.

This was supposed to be

the sweetest kiss,

a thing of beauty,

but now,

it’s a eulogy.

We give more

when we watch

our reflections fade.

Moving across the sky,

weren’t you just here yesterday?

I’m a little out of my mind.

Holding on by four strands;

then there were three,

and I

hope you understand.

 

HG – 2019

 

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