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
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.