Tug

The moon doesn't shine tonight
But i still feel her tug
Her pull

I hear the whisper of her song
Drifting serene on gentle winds

Too soft to know if it's a lullaby
Or a mournful dirge-
Its melancholy form
Barely ecking through a cloudy blanket

She tugs and pulls at my heart
She soothes its quiet aching

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From the Author

Sorry about the impromptu hiatus, people! I’ll admit that I’ve barely written a thing lately due to time dilation issues.

I’ve always loved night and the moon. Everything is quieter at night, and I’ve always loved quiet.

This is a poem about night-therapy.