Moonlight

I knew him for the streak of sunlight,

Waking me each morning,

Reminding me he's there for me,

Beside me was a vase of dead leaves.

Autumn had brought auburn leaves,

One night into my room,

The moonlight crept onto my bed,

Took my hand and held it tight,

I knew the Sun for who he was,

The moon however, less.

I snatched my hand back away,

But the moonlight stayed in my room.

One day I snatched my hand back again,

Realizing the moonlight did not grab it.

Nor was there a periwinkle hue in the curtains,

Draped around the room

Just then I began to realize,

How much the dark consumes the night,

My hands felt empty,

More so did my heart.

The window pane was left open,

I peeked into the phthalo sky,

There I saw no moon, nor star,

Instead I saw the sun.

Who knows the nights I ponder,

Waiting for the moonlight to come back,

Maybe it never will,

Or maybe, I should go and take his hand.

Take his hand, and never turn back.

~Ramsha