The moon hears the song my soul hums,
She moves through the night where mystery drums.
Her hair spills galaxies; her eyes cradle the moonlight,
And the night trembles, awed by the light.
The moonstone quivers, a shard of your flame,
Yet pales before the fire in her name.
Colors shift like whispers across the night,
Soft blues, gentle whites, the sparks that take flight.
She moves through the dark like tides of the sea,
Every glance a current, drawing me free.
The stars lean closer, bent by her sway,
Night bends in wonder wherever she stays.
O Moon, keep your secrets, your silver-lit skies,
For I have found heaven reflected in her eyes.
Her light is a story, a pulse, and a song.
Now, this is the place where I finally belong.
Apr 3
Apr 3, 2026 at 10:47 AM UTC
The moon hears the song my soul hums,
She moves through the night where mystery drums.
Her hair spills galaxies; her eyes cradle the moonlight,
And the night trembles, awed by the light.
The moonstone quivers, a shard of your flame,
Yet pales before the fire in her name.
Colors shift like whispers across the night,
Soft blues, gentle whites, the sparks that take flight.
She moves through the dark like tides of the sea,
Every glance a current, drawing me free.
The stars lean closer, bent by her sway,
Night bends in wonder wherever she stays.
O Moon, keep your secrets, your silver-lit skies,
For I have found heaven reflected in her eyes.
Her light is a story, a pulse, and a song.
Now, this is the place where I finally belong.
