I’m held aloft
Atop a giant’s shoulders
Closer to the sky

I kiss the moon
And beg her
“Please come home, moon
We miss you”

Every night the quiet crimson flowers
Encased in glass
Hang from brown stalks
And cry bright tears

But what have streetlights to make them sad?
We might as well eat plastic
For breakfast

So I kiss the moon
And beg her
“Please come home, moon
We miss you”