A Beckoning Glare Poem by Luna Moon

X marks the spot,
Where you dance under the moon.
You wait for it to shine,
It'll be here soon.
And there she is,
Orange in her October.
Rarely do you see it,
For rarely is she sober.
The wind laments,
And blows you black hair.
But notice you do not,
Locked in the moons lair.
Full and bright,
She pulls you in.
Making you dizzy,
Your head starts to spin.
Dangerous she is,
Her light pale and eerie.
She beckons you closer,
And suddenly you're dreary.
Then Apollo shines,
And she's lost in his rays.
He blocks her out,
Within a goldeny haze.
So you sleep like a zombie,
On the cool green grass.
Another day to wait,
Ah, at last.