Crying in the night,
Mother, uncertain of what to do,
Tried so many ways to hush her,
Yet she cries in her arms.

Taking her outside,
Under the star light,
In the moonlight,
The beauty it is,
Soothing the child,
The cries slowly stop,
Giving way to slow, sleeping breaths.

Years later, the child is restless,
Sitting in bed, unable to sleep,
Finally getting up, and going to the window,
Looking out to the moon,
Giving her that soothing feeling,
As the many times before,
Yet a bit of energy,
Some sort of comfort,
So strange, yet familiar...

Night falls again,
The child is older,
Senses the connection,
Goes into its light,
Basking in it as the moments go on.

Found, she is brought in,
Puzzled, the mother asks why.
The answer comes,
Easily, like breathing;

"It comforts me,
It soothes my soul,
It connects somehow,
So familiar,
Yet so...different."

Realization, though not entirely,
The mother brings her in,
Seats her, and holds the child in her arms.

"Not even I understand,"
She admits,
"But it soothes me too."

- Jay M
April 1st, 2019