Waxing moon,
carry me across doubt
with each passing day,
each hour,
bathe me in hope
for all the tomorrows
I fear.

I’ll turn off the news,
hide my phone away.
Ignorant bliss in exchange
once more,
as it was long ago...
childhood ears heard only
childish songs.

Waxing moon,
lie golden on my cheek.
These eyes of mine
shall only shine
in natural hues
of forests, wild and rich,
full of stories.

Kings and queens
with courtyard squabbles,
bishops in their regal robes;
quite scandalous,
the empty shadows creep
into the now... and then,
I see the truth.

My moon, you’ve seen
too much today
and yesterday, I fear
t...

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