Moon
Moon, I know
you’re rather fickle –
not long ago
you were thin as a sickle
but look at you now –
It’s night’s high noon
and you’re fat and full
as a blown balloon.
Moon, your face
is made of light
and you hang like hope
against the night,
waxing, waning,
sometimes gone,
always changing,
moving on.
© Kate O’Neil
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #16
What a lovely poem! Should be published — perhaps in NSW School Magazine. Di xx
I agree with Di – it’s a lovely poem. Must have missed the Moon prompt, it’s a great subject. jaz.
Great poem Kate.