Children of the moon

The dawn had turn to dusk, 

But the children of the moon had yet to retire. 

A necklace of white flowers clutched in one hand, 

And their unfulfilled dreams in another. 

The thunder in the pits of their stomach, 

Rumbled louder than their voices

Drowned out by the noise from the highway 

That had been their playground. 

While the children of the earth 

Enjoy the comforts of their homes,  

The children of the moon revolves 

Outside the world they can never be truly part of.

The heat from the sun that had recently burned their skin 

Had slowly retreated to give way to the cold

That could not freeze their resolve -

But still they continue on. 

These children of the moon would continue to wander on,

Orbiting the outskirts of a distant world, 

'Til the necklace of flowers turn to silver pieces

And their dreams refueled for another day.