Sometimes the moon is white and high,
And then I think about you still -
I lift my head up to the sky,
And feel refreshing evening chill.
I know for sure - you're still awake,
The moon is whispering to you.
I know that many things were fake,
But many more were clear and true.
I almost touch your pleading hand,
I almost hear you say "goodbye" -
Oh, we will never share a land
But we can share the evening sky.
The Moon
© Copyright: Celena Costello, 2002
Свидетельство о публикации №102101500883
Свидетельство о публикации №102101500883
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