Has The Moon Found Her Rose? Poem by Mark Heathcote

Has the moon found her rose?
In the mirror of your face
when she soothed in repose
did you steal her grace?

Quill in hand, did she quiver
then strike out the stars
short-fuse Gods voltage emitter
baneful of how beautiful you are.

Has the moon found her rose?
One equal of her rhythmic music
her nocturne throes
poetic refinement is therapeutic.

But so is the hand we trace
to the stars in their orbit
that weaves and embraces
the world with us transported.