Yearning
In a mesmerizing display,
a crescent moon hangs low
in the swiftly darkening sky,
back-lit by a soft glow.
Oh, why
can I not take wings,
reach beyond my realm,
catch a star,
touch the moon.
Moon, how does it feel
to ride the sky,
walk through clouds,
chat with stars?
How would you feel
if I touched your face,
would my fingers tingle,
would they burn?
Does a falling star
kiss your brow
or pass you by,
stealing your glow -
will I ever know?
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment