The moon, a slender eyebrow in the morning sky,
Ducking in and out of clouds that look
Like scattered pieces of charcoal,
Is as thin as the cover on my soul,
Which shivers in the icy wind
And ponders the unthinkable.

The moon was skinny yesterday
And several days before, as thin
As all the options now lined up
Like bottles on the fence posts of my heart
Waiting for a well tossed stone
To cause a resolution.

The moon has always been my friend
As I grow fat it waxes thin
And does not always answer if I call
Because I know it rides the sky
Like a golden palomino mare
That often won’t take me along.

The moon is shadowed by the storm
That roils the peaceful morning sky
And mirrors all the thunder in my mind
That follows lightning flashes of resolve
To once again become Selena’s mate
And course the planes of dawn together
                        ljm

massive dark clouds in the sky
innocent kite was passing by
believing it will be alright in time
waiting for moonlight to shine

I remember, sometime
in my early twenties,
realizing that I had
never experienced
the feeling of
missing somebody.
And I think
it's because
in order to miss someone
you have to first
let them exist.

And no one did.

And I don't know how
or when
it started to happen
but slowly, unnoticeably,
faces that were
once distant and blurry
became increasingly clear
moving nearer, nearer,
until close enough to
reach out and touch.
Hear the air softly exhaled
from their lungs.
Close enough to be hurt
and to love. And now
I feel it come in waves
a dull, subtle ache in my chest
and I think
it's because
I miss the nearness of
my friends.

I will remember
the song that my heart
played percussions to.

I will sing the words,
with no one else,
to a song made for two.