Heaven and the Moon

Maybe the moon, high up in the sky, Isn’t quite, what it may seem. For I have wondered, through starry nights, As it shines a soft yellow beam. Maybe, I wonder, as I look to the stars, That the moon itself could be heaven. As it changes it’s shape, through dark cold nights, I’ve wondered this, since I was seven. The whiteness through day, with darker patches, Could be the clouds that we always dream. When we think of heaven, those soft white clouds, With light, that does truly gleam. When the moon is yellow, I always wonder, Maybe it isn’t made of cheese. But a glorious sunset, on the clouds of heaven, An Image that would definitely please. I’ve always looked up, and dreamed of going, To that wondrous ball of light. As everyone has, as they look to the stars, Through the velvety black of the night. But I think a little more, and it plays on my mind, That everyone would want try and go, But isn’t that the same as heaven, That everyone wants their faces to show? My grandad and I, when I was just five, Looked up to the moon one night. We smiled at the moon, as the moon smiled back, With a beaming smile of light. Maybe the stars, are divine old souls, Or angels flickering their wings. Maybe they are, just ordinary stars, They could be many strange things. Maybe shooting stars, that we can see, As they glide on through the sky, Are loved ones departed, as they start a new life, On the moon we see, up high. My grandad passed, when I was eight, And became a shooting star. And I believe, I know where he went, And I know it’s not very far. I look up alone now, to the sunset of light, As I send my smiles from earth, And I know, he’s there, and he smiles back, Just like the moon did that night.