Moon Beams.

Tonight is a good night for nostalgia,

so go to the lake.

The moon says hello from the surface,

you wave politely.

~

What memories shall we make tonight?

Perhaps the trees will light aflame

in remembrance of

three hundred forgotten stars.

~

Your sighs howl in branches

and wind up in your lap;

don’t forget to look

up – and see yourself always upwards.

~

Eyes put on colder lenses

as the night grows softer, fuzzier.

Warmth yearns for freedom

from weathered tombs.

~

You let go of the clinging in your eyes,

scattered free on moon beams.

So they walked on the moon,

forever forgetting home.

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