every night, i stare at the moon. Either looming high and bright in the sky's fabric, or low, partially hidden by trees, it's always there.

I would watch the moon slowly go through the phases, a solemn reminder of passing time
With each full moon came a sudden burst of excitement, it was the time to get everyone together and discover the moon for real through a telescope, and lay in the grass, star-gazing.

But the moon will always slip away in a goodbye, until all that's left are memories and drifting stars with no leader

until the next full moon