moon

Marc Imlay

​Oh wondrous moon,
thou eye of dispassion
always a boon
in your own fashion.
Haunting, like call of loon
within watery mansion.

Shifting colors to shades
of soft silvery white
and in hidden night glades
moths’ wings glitter bright
whilst on the dewy grass blades
a thousand moonlets delight.

You always follow
wherever I go
and your face sallow
exclaiming “Oh!”
That you’re a favorite fellow
you must surely know.

Through your phases
you wax and wane.
Though you leave for days
you return again.
Despite missing your rays
I never complain.

Throughout my life
a trusted confidant.
In peace and strife
in joy and lament.
A faithful wife
or benevolent parent.

Of all my companions
and dear dear friends
I want you for my champion
when on my death bed.
For my consolation
when I meet my end.

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