The moon whispers all her secrets
in my ear, as I sleep
creating ripples in my pool of thought
as I slumber, I start to weep

she calls out through the mist and fog
that consume my tortured rest
no Father ever hears her song
but to me she will confess

her hollow voice is searing glass
and screeches like a lark
as eyes turn blind and all but see
my ears hear only dark

and when she's full her grievances
become too much to bear
for a lady of the moon is light
weight passes her to spare

I strip down shirts ,
and scraps of dignity
and bare my shoulders however small
so her troubles may fall on me

and so trouble free and weightless
she floats back up to space
turning back to trouble me
at her pre-monthly pace