She doesn’t always look the same
Sometimes she’s a silver sphere
Fooling you that she is bright
But she’s just a mistress of the night
Sometimes only half of her you can see
Following you wherever you’ll be
She hides while dancing in the sky
Half, still a full beauty up high
In time, she becomes thin, crescent
Like a smile, a blissful moment
She looks delicate, discriminating
Only a part of her, still breathtaking
And only those prison of the night
Will witness the euphoric stint
Of showing pieces of her then
The beauty of becoming whole again
Look up, what shape do you see me tonight?
This is inspired by Phases, a poem by Midnight Rain, my friend here at HP. Thank you for the inspiration :)