Blue moon at my window | wendy-stern-poetry

The blue moon at my window shines,
So brightly,
So brightly,
As to pierce my eyes.

She calls of phases,
Of changes,
Of cycles,
Of secrets,
Of tides,
Of festivals,
Of folklore,

And of dreams.

She calls of power,
Of perspective,
Of insignificance,
(Yours, mine, ours.)

The blue moon at my window, tells me,
That, ''this too shall pass'',
And then,
Suddenly...

She is gone.