Photo by Mary Bach
The moon murmurs
to you alone
when need eclipses fear,
drawing you out
over dark stony beaches
through back alleys
and under bridges,
where small flames,
barely aware of their heat,
flick shadows
across your face.
And here you stand
at the border,
between light and dark
pulled by both,
but belonging to neither.
This is for G-man's FF-55. Click on the link and check it out. The prompt for a poem about the moon came from Brendan at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. Check out that site for some excellent poetry and a link to a brilliant poem by Sylvia Plath (and interesting background information by Brendan). I'm not listing there though, since I'd a bit late, and I didn't quite follow the rules and use the word list provided. But you should still have a look!
