the moon in my city,
a hazy crestfallen hue,
those who gaze up to
its beauty, remain few...
the moon in my city,
betrays a tired air,
wrinkled stench in
reflection, oh despair!
the moon in my city,
glides the benign sky,
paddles a silver paddle,
bemoaning why, why, why!
the moon is my city,
but has a mother's heart,
it forgives oh so easily,
so gently does it part,
for at the break of dawn,
or on a pensive twilight,
look, there is the moon,
in eternal evasive flight!
the moon in my city,
the moon in my city...
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
the moon in my city,
a hazy crestfallen hue,
those who gaze up to
its beauty, remain few...
the moon in my city,
betrays a tired air,
wrinkled stench in
reflection, oh despair!
the moon in my city,
glides the benign sky,
paddles a silver paddle,
bemoaning why, why, why!
the moon is my city,
but has a mother's heart,
it forgives oh so easily,
so gently does it part,
for at the break of dawn,
or on a pensive twilight,
look, there is the moon,
in eternal evasive flight!
the moon in my city,
the moon in my city...
Request permission to use this poem