The sad moon in the skies, a mournful sight,
Gazes down upon the earth with wistful grace,
As if it, too, has known the pangs of night,
And bears the marks of love's tempestuous race.
Its silver beams, like tears, fall from above,
To kiss the lips of oceans far and wide,
And with its soft and gentle glow, they prove
That beauty can be born from sorrow's tide.
And I, like that lone moon, am lost in thought,
Of all the dreams that never came to be,
Of all the hopes that perished, oft for naught,
Of all the love that burned, and then set free.
And yet, despite the sadness in my heart,
I find comfort in the moon's soothing art.
The Sad Moon in the Skies
© Copyright: Андрей Боровков, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123020104496
Свидетельство о публикации №123020104496
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