Madame Moon

Tonight you took my breath away,  
a perfect view to end my day. 
From your face a silver glow,  
to light Skiathos town below.  

I’m forced to stop within my tracks,   
and watch this gem that’s set in black.   
I wished that I could reach up high,  
to pluck its luster from the sky.   

Why have so many writ of you;  
in song, in rhyme; a verse or two?  
Is it your beauty in our sight,  
that makes us so compelled to write?  

You paint a true romantic sky,  
yet in your beams the wolves do cry.   
And many folk have lost their minds,  
beneath your full celestial shine.   

What is this voodoo you possess,  
that steals my gaze at your behest?  
What magic does beguile me so,  
that I am loath to watch you go?  

Then clouds drift by to mask your glare,  
breaking my hypnotic stare.   
I smile and tip my hat to you, 
for moments spent within your hue.
   
But though you faded for a while,  
I shrugged and spared a knowing smile.   
For just like Vera’s wartime croon:  
We’ll meet again ... dear Madame Moon.   

P. A. Davies 2020 

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