Poem of the Day

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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