The full moon
looks down upon
the lonely hearted,
casting its glow
upon chisled-faces,
cheeks
covered
with streams
of dried tears,
fearful of the morning.

And when the warmth
of the bright star appears,
we lie hidden still,
silently waiting
for the return of night,
when moonglow carresses
us into our lost dreams
& we write of pain,
comforted,
yet again.