Some say I’m of the sun;
Burning bright and blue.
But few can’t understand
The woes of mischievous moons.

The day has its pay,
With drops of dew on its shoe.
It knows what to do.
It shines.
It’s wise.
Yet it frowns down upon the gloom
Known only by mischievous moons.

Someday we will collide,
And you’ll be lost in the fog
By my side.
“Hold me,”
You’ll beg.
“Hold me,”
You’ll plead.

But you cut me true.
You blocked my blue.

I’ve no time for the sun.
The night is mine to run.
Dark music and wondrous songs to accrue,
As I’m the mischievous moon.