The Moon is smiling at me.
It knows I had a great day.
Now it's shining me home,
In case I forgot the way.


Moonlight is more subtle.
More silver than the sun's gold.
Could be the sun is younger?
And the moon is growing old?


I can't stare at the sun.
Its light would make me blind.
But I can marvel at the moon.
Its light is sweetly kind.


The Man in the Moon is happy.
I can see his smile up there.
Almost hear him chuckling,
Catching lovers in his snare.


Yes, the sun will warm me.
And light up all around.
But it's the moon that will hug me.
With silver ribbons I am bound.

© By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)