The Moon Poem by Joe Holley

The moon, she lays soothing upon the clouds of the depressed, yet she, the moon thus looks happy. Even the blind could view upon her smiles, quilted in her golden shine. She shines for miles, its flight at night, unhindered by sadness thou lingered as tears fall from above, like bloodshed…

He, a lone figure, walks in wonder, thus he ponders what It must take to be her, the moon. In her bed of all that which kill, yet she lives still.
How he, that long figure, envies her, the elegant moon.

Goodnight He Cries…
Goodnight Lone Figure…