The Moon

The Moon.
With all of it's luminous glory,
Lingering above, leaving us basking in his glow.
Always prepared to throw us from one intense emotion to the next.
Never apart from his watchful gaze,
Hiding by day - but only barely.
At the first hint of dusk,
Standing tall, rallying his following of stars,
Aching to see if this new round of turmoil will break us.
Armed with the magnetic pull that only darkness can bring.
Watching,
Waiting,
For the chance to call us home,
To join his twinkling army in the sky.
Surrounding him as he gazes upon another poor soul,
As they drop to their knees,
And reach for him.

Reviews

[willweb]

I really liked this one too but then, I am always drawn to poems about the moon. Though I have always refereed to the moon as her. : ) Nice one.