Moonlight Fantasy

MOONLIGHT FANTASY One happy summer late in June I walked under a starry night. I started talking with the Moon, Of love that seemed so strong and bright. The Moon appeared much too cold. So distant and alien by chance, Because She wasn't free, She told. Young Moon was guiding her all month. I beckoned the Moon with a finger And all at once her refusal I got. Deciding not to vainly linger I instantly of love forgot. My Fantasies faded at once. I found that I was a dunce.