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clay-micallefPoems
The moon covers its face behind this thin curtain of night. I take another sip of white wine, I take all that I left behind and try to process its significance. With all this theatre of troubles I stand here blindly, I hold the weight of all that matters. As the moon holds my attention like a secret I calculate every thought. My questions are precise they remain unaddressed. I am haunted by the ghost that sleeps at the poets gate. I wait beside this frozen lake I wait with persistence, I wait for some kind of comfort, I wait for snow to fall I wait for a single sign from these stubborn stars, sleeping like my tears upon the cold cold ground. Upon a late December breeze the moon whispers surrender … Clay.M
0
Dec 22, 2025
Dec 22, 2025 at 6:13 AM UTC
A Poem About The Moon
The moon covers its face behind this thin curtain of night. I take another sip of white wine, I take all that I left behind and try to process its significance. With all this theatre of troubles I stand here blindly, I hold the weight of all that matters. As the moon holds my attention like a secret I calculate every thought. My questions are precise they remain unaddressed. I am haunted by the ghost that sleeps at the poets gate. I wait beside this frozen lake I wait with persistence, I wait for some kind of comfort, I wait for snow to fall I wait for a single sign from these stubborn stars, sleeping like my tears upon the cold cold ground. Upon a late December breeze the moon whispers surrender … Clay.M
clay-micallef
Written by
clay-micallef
M
Dec 22, 2025
Dec 22, 2025 at 6:13 AM UTC
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