Over the Moon

it started out as a love poem...

Over the Moon

The breeze caresses the strands of hair that used to be-

gently stroking my cheek.

sweet songs of spring breathe light into my eyes

waxing moons exhaling promises trickling from the sky.

 

The petals sway, swinging ringing sweetness

softly, slowly

Unseen,

these rolling meadows,

singing to stars,

and feelings don’t surface the scars-

broken, decrepit places.

 

Glimpses and shadows of meadows

that flow with pure joy

and sweet songs

that drip and stick on every

leaf, leaving believers in rainbows

and pots of _____

because

we jump over moons with our hearts open

and our eyes closed.

 

I peeked, once or twice.

 

I always do.

 

Cows leaping and dancing over moons

This is a dream, isn’t it

 

I fall off the swing.

Again and again and again-

he caught me.

 

we rolled down the hill,

but we flew

 

and we danced

in bliss

in a blistering Spring

 

blissfully, whispering tales of sweet moons

nights of flights that never ended

still, we cannot command the witching hour

 

(In youth we learn, in age we understand.)

 

the moons

the stars

the warmth of spring

once ours

 

Perhaps one day we will

seek joy outside pots of _____

thoughts and feelings aligned

in line with the constellations

constantly changing

 

The wind is rising

over the moon

but I will not fly tonight.

 

Tomorrow will speak alone,

today, I hear a sweeter song