The moon my friend

In the forgotten corners of the country side, where shadows dance, A homeless poet, wandering with words, in a sorrowful trance, No home to shelter, just the moon as a friend, Whispering secrets in the night, where sorrows bend. "Come, walk with me," the moon softly calls his name, Guiding his steps, chasing away the silent shame, Back to a time when the world was kind, When a poet's heart was an open book, a sanctuary to find. Eyes that once sparkled with dreams unfurled, Now reflect the scars of a harsh, unforgiving world, In his verses, his faith he holds to and hope still shines, The homeless poet, weaving magic in his lines. The moon listens, a silent, faithful friend, As night fades into dawn, their journey never to end, Through the maze of words, they wander free, A homeless poet and the moon, in celestial harmony.