Moon, Moon Poem by Diane Lee Moomey

A waxing moon, near full. Your patio—
camellia petals scattered at our feet,
the light, two shadows clear on yellow stucco
walls. Our speech—the cadences that nearly
swept away the memory of distance,
other marriages, of years estranged.
Almost, I could believe in second chance,
another answer. But I flew away

alone, and brought a pebble home—so round,
so like another moon. Camellia jar
with saucer overflowing on the ground,
the splashing echoing your words. I see
my solitary shadow on the wall,
remember all you told me of your dream.