The Mischievous Moon

The moon was gold her brightness shone
Over the waters of Babylon.

The moon was yellow the night was young
When only love songs should be sung.

The moon was happy and shone with glee
She gave out her beauty for all to see.

The moon grew tired and turned quite pale
She covered herself with a gossomer veil.

The moon then slowly went to sleep
With secrets no one else could keep.

And now she was weary and needed her rest
Tomorrow she promised to do her best.

But now she would sleep through the hot summer day
And dream of the tricks she was going to play.

Brenda S. Warhurst

Back to Poems - Page 3

© 2006 Brenda S. Warhurst