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Moon Child

I must've been a moonchild

from the day that I was born,

romanticizing full-moon nights,

and charmed by crescent horns.


And gazing at its crooked smile

without a special lens,

or sitting 'round a campfire

in the moonlight among friends.

I marvel through the phases

as it waxes and then wanes,

from its fullest and its brightest

to its hollowed-out remains.

When shining through my window

on a clear and starry night,

I've always felt sedated

by its moody shade of light.

There's a calming satisfaction

in the walks, I like to take,

just watching sparkling ripples

stretch across a moonlit lake.

I wouldn't be the same without

my friend up in the sky,

who gives me feelings that will last,

until the day I die.


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