If you look to the sky
in the dawn of early morning,
you may notice The Moon
hanging around The Skyline Lounge,
done with his shift and having a drink
with the stars who have finished their shine.
Though everyone knows perfectly well
that he sleeps through most of the night
like some old celestial night watchman,
he recites his grand adventures
of slipping through shades undrawn
to glisten bodies exhausted from love making,
and giving fathers light
to look for monsters under the bed.
He boasts of the majestic splendor of his reflection
in great waters and snow-capped peaks,
but, as always,
is overcome with melancholy
at the vision of still bodies on lonely city streets
huddled in his shadow,
and all those beds
still empty on one side.
The New Morning Sun
nods in silent agreement
and tops off his drink,
the stars snicker quietly behind his back - “there he goes again”,
and the planets feign their royal indifference
from their card game in the corner -
they've heard this all before.
And then,
with a quick look at the horizon
and a blink of his sleepy quarter-moon-eye-lid,
The Moon heads off for his next shift
bidding all a good day.
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