Muerte de la Luna

Originally written April 2015

He did his samba and sauntered his way up the silvery-glass staircase,
through the midnight mask, rapier in hand

His face turned from enchanting to conniving

With one deliberate stab, the moon welled up - brimming and crimson

I heard the moon weep and the trill of molten claret on the treetops

I could only grieve in silence as I ventured to gather the broken fragments
But they crumbled to dust in my fingers

I watched the moon bleed.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Powerful use if words and emotions.
"I could only grieve in silence as I ventured to gather the broken fragments
But they crumbled to dust in my fingers"
The above lines. Allowed reader to understand the places and damage done. Thank you Aiza for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote