The old wooden dock was damp and cool,
standing on the edge of a coffee-brown lake.
The sky was so dark.
The rich indigo of a king's robe.
No longer dotted with stars,
not yet stained by the sun's arrogance.
The full moon sat alone,
staring at her reflection on the murky water.
So sad, wanting recognition, but too shy.
She waited for her brother to retrieve it.
Waited to be pushed to the corner of a baby-blue
sky, not to be noticed,
for the sun was there to give life.
The savior of the world.
Her depression was absorbed by the nighttime.
The crickets played their violins for her.
The birds slept. Silence.
Even the breeze was calm for her,
dancing its slow Nocturne.
The horizon went pale blue,
then pink and gold.
The sun was soon born, taking his place
in the now-bright sky.
The moon stood aside. A shade.
But even I no longer paid her attention.
Instead, I smiled up at my master.
Zoe Guillory's Other Poems
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