The moon is a master of deception
(not unlike the sparkle in her eyes)
hiding that which would be shown
in plain sight wrapped in
dim glowing hues of night.

The moon is a master of illusion
not nearly as bright as the sun and
wrapped in vague promises of truth
I loved it as I have loved her
a lifetime from my youth.

The moon is a master of mystery
hidden things reside within it's glow
hounds of war bay at it out of fear
of upcoming doom unknown.

But I say, dear moon, if you must
do please deceive me so
because you, and the sparkle
in her eyes forever bid me not to go.