Now that the pale moon has risen
I remember you as you were in the night.
You were the gentle light, soft glow,
bathing the hillsides in a sea of white.
Stars climb and shiver against the
cold of a painted sky, and watch.
Dreams creep in through horizon’s curtain,
last cries of the falling sky.
The breeze is empty, and silent.
Only breaths disturb the lonely air,
pulled through a cigarette at the door
before seeking an illusion of sleep.
Gentle light, soft glow, sea of white!
Memories return with a pale moon,
rising like the night’s painted sky,
and fill the silent, passing winds.