The Man on the Moon

There’s a man on the moon

he is not a mad man

it’s not a full moon

Some call the man a loon

for he waits for someone

to somehow climb soon

Take his hand, sing a tune

about the magic land

where white stars bloom

Joyful the man on the moon

reaches his long arm

into the starry lagoon

The stardust sand is swooned

and that is the plan

for the short night June

To have fun with the balloon

in the dwindling span

of two blue moons

The secret hand has strewn

the whole earth’s sand

contained in a teaspoon

The secret hand has strewn

as the still kids stand

looking the bright balloon

It is the man on the moon

who streaked with the sun

the orangey afternoon

 

He is not alone anymore.