Tonight the moon is a cracker, with a bite out of it floating in the night, and in a week or so according to the calendar it will probably look like a silver football, and nine, maybe ten days ago it reminded me of a thin bright claw. But eventually -- by the end of the month, I reckon -- it will waste away to nothing, nothing but stars in the sky, and I will have a few nights to myself, a little time to rest my jittery pen.
Added: 29 Aug 2001 | Last Read: 23 Nov 2008 9:47 AM | Viewed: 6260 times
A custom PoetryNotes™ eBook may be ordered for this poem. Get help with your homework - delivered in 5-6 days.
For more information...