Does the moon know
that the girl waits for it—
pining, yearning
for just a glimpse
of its mysterious, untouchable beauty?

Does the moon know
that the girl avoids sleep,
staying awake until dawn
just to admire it
for as long as she can?

Does the moon know
that her heart skips a beat
as the sun sinks low
and the sky darkens to charcoal,
knowing the moon will follow?

Does the moon know
that the stars mean nothing beside it—
that all else disappears
when it rises?

Does the moon know
that the girl loves it—
basking in its glory,
holding on to the hope
that one day,
she will be noticed?

Does the moon know
that she will admire it
for all her life—
clinging to the hope
that she might one day know it?

Does the moon even know
that the girl is there?