Shyly appearing, the moon is
ever so slightly curved
like a hammock, beckoning
to those who hope for rest
and dream of a comfortable place.
The moon tonight was a lemon slice,
dripping sourness onto the darkness.
And no snow fell like sugar
to sweeten up the man.
Someone sat on the moon tonight
and the man was down in the mouth.
I wonder why?
He’s seen it all before.
He must get depressed, just like I do when
someone sits on my dreams.
At last the moon is complete,
the man is happy,
dogs can bay and lovers kiss.