The Moon

Silver teardrops

Of the waning, weeping moon

I collect in silence

to look at them

on new moon nights.

What sparkles when you are not there?

Starry briolette

of remembrance

in a heart of darkness

where light is a lost dream.

The sun, a myth.

Posted for Sanaa’s Prompt Nights – Let us walk together in the Moonlight – [18]


shared with Poetry Pantry @ Poets United