How many more turns of the moon?
I whisper “I love you” to the night sky
The words slip effortlessly from my lips
Smiling ruefully, I wonder why I do it
And to whom am I whispering?
Perhaps my heart, the wretched treacherous thing
Doesn’t want my lips to forget how to make the shapes
Three shapes slipping invisible and unheard
Into the midnight opal ribbons
Of a wistful, wishful Blue Moon
30 July 2015
~ May these tiny three, find the heart of thee, may you know and return them back to me. This is my will so mote it be ~