Mother Moon

May 27, 2005

The wind blows

The air is cold

The sky is dark

And I feel old

The fireside calls me

To a blanket and wine

To remember my fair love

And be warm for a time

when

The sun was shining

The skies were blue

The clouds were cotton

‘Twas a day for no shoes

the green grass beckoned me

with flowers’ gemshades

to run with my love

to tall sapphire gates

the night was wistful

with waters’ ancient song

and stars’ playful mirth

chasing away all that was wrong

the mother moon whispered

“Touch your true love

with lips of pure music.”

She blew blessings from above

I wish I were

On the moonlit hills

For then I would be

With my true love still

And there would I sing

To her as we made love

As each night before I was

Torn from her gentle love.

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