Last Crescent Moon

 

Hung o’er the rooftops
And over the street
Cold-clear in the darkness
Her profile so neat.
She speaks of departure
A waning regret
Aware of her leanness
But come-hither yet.
And what holds her up there
And Who beats the time?
No engine or cable
For this flight sublime.
Once full and so festive
Now nearing the void
I scarce hold the memory
Of bounty enjoyed
But she hints at all
Now adorned with a mist
A light still of comfort
A promise now kissed.
Though black nights are coming
The cycle is sure
She’ll shine in a short while
All gleaming and pure.

   
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