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The moon is brighter, night after night.
Finally found out why: A snow moon is coming;
Tales swear it means something.
Millions laugh at the possibilities
like they’re nothing.
I happen to dream up
hopeful moments,
because those give me power,
and none at all.
Lately, I’ve felt like a wilting garden,
watching fire-weeds bloom, and bloom.
Only the rockets know what it feels like
To lift off,
To get caught up in the clouds,
To get lost,
To come home too soon.
See, we’re all flawed, quaint, and stained.
Our colors blend in the water
When we dip the brush in.
We all come together, and the water’s always lukewarm.
We settle down, but we’re not just settling.
It’s always funny how we’re running to or fro.
Some of us, here and there, don’t have answers or cares.
Some of us go too far. So many wouldn’t dare.
T.W.R.
2019 COPYRIGHT © ONLY WITH AUTHOR’S NAME
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