There he sits.
The moon is in the sky,
like clockwork.
His personality changed
from yesterday,
along with his clothes.
Tonight, he's draped in stars
and showing only a quarter
of his wonderful personality.
How humble he can be.
He's playing off the light
of the fireflies
like a violinist from a conductor.
Look at that...he's higher
than the shadow connected trees.
My old friend,
you have a flare for the dramatic.

The world continues spin
even when all noise ends.
Skipping like a broken record,
dancing to the same tune over
over over over.....

I wonder if
You've ever read any of my poems
And panicked.
Trying to figure out if it was about you.

It probably was.
This one is.