A Ghostly Moon
A ghostly moon haunts a vista of blue;
as white as the clouds, Luna's peering through;
a shy sprite, in a rare daytime debut.
The moon's golden glow pales at Dawn's first light;
for Luna's beacon only shines at night.
A fragile image, as frail as a dove,
Nature's victim of unrequited love;
chasing Sol across the heavens above.
But time has decreed, She'll never succeed;
Sol always leads; She can't increase Her speed.
As daylight strips Her of Her gilded hue,
a pale moon silently slips out of sight;
chasing after a dream, She's aware of
the tether, from which She'll never be freed.
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