The Moon Never Forgets
A poem
Her gown of sprinkled diamonds
unrolling down her feet
scattered throughout the suburbs.
I wonder if self-awareness
attended the splendor she is
like how it’s unconsciously awed
by anyone who sees.
Without a name,
those stars glow impressively.
Without notice of those who see,
she knows every stare has its depth
which she should not have seen.
As if a kind of prayer,
a call cannot be unheard.
I lettered:
Every eye has a story to tell, a story deafened to ears. We look up the moon engrossed in its beauty. As for the moon, it remembers those eyes it has seen. Their clarion voice speaking through those solemn eyes.
I took a glance at the moon
and welcome myself in its indelible camaraderie.
Akin to a friend of a long trusted time. And if you’re feeling unloved, dear, the moon never forgets.
