Wistful in your rising into sallow night,
holding to horizon as you draw yourself,
up into the dusted, fading drift of sky;
so is moon then placed on heaven’s shelf.

Subtle is your dance of yellowed light,
caressing edge and form of all below,
redolent and making darkness bright;
fears dispelled of that we do not know.

Softer is your touch than shining day,
gentler is the face you bring to earth,
wiser is the gift of hallowed gaze;
watching over dreams as they do birth.

Visions creep at edges bare revealed,
hiding from the truth you would display,
sun now lost and for the hours is sealed;
lunacy does beckon, leads us all astray.

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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