The Man In the Moon

The Man In The Moon Follow the crooked path through a frosted gate And hide in the shadows, where the streets are straight, Look for me in a doorway, it's there that I will wait, Marooned in the same darkness that will, one day, be my fate. Imagine a light shimmering and distant voices muttering As I carve the brick built skies with flimsy silver guttering, And there I am, a halo'd face upon a heart, a fluttering, Imbetween the chimney stacks, gasping, choking, spluttering. I am the mumblings of a lunatic forgetting what to recall, Memories of you distorting despite the thrill of it all, I am lost among the shadows that are holding up the wall So I'll pause for a moment to let another empty bottle fall. As it rolls down the sober kerb like an eerie, muffled scream, I hear my own hollow footsteps echoing in a dream, I am the man in the moon and upon your eyes I beam, Lighting up discarded wishes just to watch your essence gleam. Appearing and disappearing in the windows and in puddles Where all my loves once gathered in their cruel and taunting huddles. Where I am often found confused in a myriad of muddles Suffocating, like an unwanted child in a world of loveless cuddles. My eyes will still shine as bright as a winter's fearful stare, Reflecting in my melancholy as if I wasn't there, Not wanting to embarrass you nor indeed, do I mean to scare, Just to blind you with my love if I could only dare. Yet my icy breath is hesitant, the dawn has come too soon, To whisper to you sweet-nothings or to catch you if you swoon, And there you are, such beauty, in your summer bridal cocoon Never to love, nor know my name, I am only the man in the moon. © RJVHorton2015