The moon was sad, as only the moon can be.
Men in tears seek to flee the nightmare of their lives
We dream that with fingers we can pluck
The calmness of flowers, the depths of moments,
The completeness of a live birth.
White sobs slide into our eyes
Remembering the smile of another
A mother,

On the fortunate day of our first kiss.
The past was a magnet that draws
Into us the heady scents of sadness
ingrained in the DNA of the everyday
Gathering where  a dream is the heart of the matter
Eyes riveted on a stranger’s eyes
The mouth moves but I hear nothing
I see her eyes blazing, her hair just-so,
In the streets she remains the mistress of horology
And in the evening she skips the light fantastic
On the lawn where I saw a fairy cry bitter tears
For the beautiful sleep spoiled child she had been.
She kept her eyes tightly closed and saw only
Snow white bunches of fragrant stars.