the moon

night by night, she looks into the endless abyss that is the night sky. 

dark

vast

and blank

in the midst of the blank sky- an incandescent figure, everchanging.

its phases pass as do the phases of life.

an innocent little girl who once admired a waxing crescent through her mother's car window is now an adult

an adult who sits idly on her roof, reflecting on her life. her growth. still admiring that crescent. 

an adult who grieves that little girl and her innocence

is this just a part of life? 

she wonders where that little girl went? so full of life. full of wonder and promise. 

now this adult sits with uncertainty and impending dread

within a blink of an eye, she has so much more to focus on than the little girl in the backseat of the car.

life comes in phases

people come in phases

much like that incandescent figure

one that changes often

but it always comes back, as does life

is the little girl in her mother's car truly all that different from the adult sitting on her roof?

or is it all just a phase?

will that little girl ever come back, or did she ever really leave?

much like the moon

despite the change

  the crescent never leaves.