The Moon, My Moon

I don’t write poetry

At least not very often.

But the way you dance across my skin

Like waves of milky tonic,

Creates a dizzying spell, releasing me from all my problems.

As though you own every sonnet and were meant to travel time to beam down upon me softly, night after night.

You erased, eradicated and dissolved every chance the sun had of waking me up.

For I don’t want to leave this hazy daydream. Full of floating clouds, dapper stars and what it may mean.

A place where you are mine and mine alone, to sit and love and ponder a world where we could be one.

Oh moon, my moon, the moon, I don’t want to fall from your arms.

Beam me up, oh moon, and call me yours forever as we dance in the night and whisper silly things, until we hear our alarms that free us from our dreams.