The timid moon obscures itself
in shadows of intrigue.
Every night you wax,
a striptease of your soul.
The moon looks over all the stars
reflecting the light of an absent sun.
The cold night glows with wonder.
Though you are smaller than the stars,
the twinkles are minuscule in my eyes.
If you are the moon,
and the moon is made of cheese,
then why am I
cheesy so squeezy.
— The End —