The moon dreams of distant delights distinct with dreary day
The water waves its wishes with the wind
The brutal breeze blows bitter beams of woe
The forest of trees standing silent still do know
That beneath the mighty moon gleam, Night itself is reaching for Day
And whispering all its worries away
The night is dreaming, dying in delight
And causing so much more than fright
As a small fawn hobbles in the snow
And raises it’s head as if to say,
“I am lost, can someone guide me home?”
Then the roaring wind rushes by
And no creature if the night was ever so sly…
The moon awakes and then it sighs
It was only a dream!
Poetry