There is a moon
over Tennessee
and it is killing me
with its soft
moon light red lips
and don't you wish
you were here hips
her dark eyes telling stories
from the west side
of the tracks

if it isn't magic
that she makes
from her fingertips
out of the nothing
in the night air
then it must be love
she sculpts out
of these small moments
of eternity

the moments she shapes
into stars that shine
with flames of poetry
close enough to read
but just out of reach
never to be held
never to be touched

there in the sky
they hang
and they sing
with that moon

that moon over Tennessee
that moon
that is killing me