The Moon
The dark side of the noon is midnight time.
The waxing moon likes watching him undress.
Undressing of this kind is not a crime
against the ethics but the loneliness.
The Moon's got used to a strange way of writing
of naked lunatic who is moonlighting
for God as an insane. He's dipping well
his quill in inks as blue as a bluebell
and writing down the third quatrain he failed
to wright last night. Complacent, naked, hailed
by angels he exults, but very soon
he'll sent again damnations to the Moon.
The Moon is peeking in the window. Shame
on you, the Moon. You, moons, are all the same.
Copyright © Kurt Ravidas | Year Posted 2019
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