The sky was ever so moving last night—
A surfeit of broken, moonlit pie crusts,
So I thought to hesitate a while, take
My fill of it, or if not all, as much as
I could, when I heard a voice I swear
Coming from the dark side of the moon:
“Move on, you light-headed fool,
Indulge as you will, what makes you
Think you’ll ever get your fill?”
No comments:
Post a Comment