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Danya Qattea


Honey Moon


As I look up at the honey yellow moon,
she looks back.
She smiles at me,
her face filling everything I see.
She's still smiling as she turns back to the earth below her,
towards any ever-weary traveler.
She knows she can't rule the sky,
but always will sigh when she is pushed out.
She always knows,
without a doubt,
that her brother,
the Sun,
is stronger.
I smile at the memory of seeing him run across the sky,
wanting Honey Moon to take over.
I laugh,
knowing he was rough hewn.
Honey Moon smiles at me again,
her smile as sad as coming rain.
Her time in the sky is almost over,
knowing she is as lucky as finding a three leaf clover.
The Sun wakes up,
pushing Honey Moon away.
With a sigh,
she waves goodbye,
and settles for awaiting the night.
I wave back to Honey Moon as she shrinks into hiding.
As day finally ends,
Honey Moon comes back,
knowing the time she has to spend.
The true queen of the sky,
she will always be known as my
Honey Moon.

Submitted: Friday, November 15, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

It was like, maybe,12: 30 at night. And before I go upstairs, I pass a door with an open window. Well, I looked out, and shining brighter than I had ever seen it shine, was a honey yellow moon, thus giving a name to this poem.

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