underage
Underage
A moonbeam sat on a bough just outside my bedroom window.
The beam was of the shy sort, and it didn’t frolic about
in the forest during the happy hour.
I invited it, in the moonbeam was cold; I tucked it in
a blanket, careful that there was no physical contact
us the beam was of tender age; one must take care lest the Guardian Harridans find it nasty and demand a hanging party; no more playing football or forever being an outcast, lest I repent.
Children and moonbeams like stories, and I told a few before the moon paled, and I sent the little moonbeam on its way
untouched by human hands.
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment