Moon at Half Past Noon

When the moon hides
To allow the cold nights
To smolder in sighs
and Loving kisses,
I crave for nothing more, nothing less
The smoke filled embrace like a wreath,
wraps around souls
That have longed to dance in cold.
Bare feet leaving the ceramic for the wild weeds
That grace the dry meadows,
Forsaken. But not dead.

We tread silently, lest the night
Awakens from a slumber in haste.
What can words say
When the hearts have spoken
The sacred beat that throbs
deep inside is the silken thread
That ties dead to the living and living to the dead.

Tomorrow, the moon may shine elsewhere
Upon the clouds azure,
fluffed up pillows inhale and exhale,
the ocean wind awaits,
a new dawn, a new life, a new embrace.